Cori's Turn
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: An islander with a reputation shoots for the moon. Follows 'One Woman's Worth'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Thanks for your patience…I think I've been a little longer writing this one than usual lately. I'm in increasingly dire financial straits and searching for either a second job, or a completely new full-time job. In the meantime, my writing functions as a way to temporarily escape my problems, and it's a welcome one. Thanks as ever to PDXWix, jtbwriter, Harry2, BishopT and Kyryn._

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§ § § -- October 6, 2003

Dr. Lambert emerged from her office after Christian and Leslie had sat for about ten minutes, and smiled at the couple when she saw them. "Well," she said, "I have some good news, Miss Leslie. There's no medical reason you can't conceive."

Leslie stared at her. "There's not?"

"No, there—" Dr. Lambert started to say something else, caught Christian's frown and changed direction. "Question?"

"I thought…" Christian said, hesitated, then looked up and admitted through a sigh, "I thought perhaps it's me, rather than Leslie. It might be wise if I were tested as well."

Dr. Lambert nodded slowly. "We can do that, Mr. Enstad, but you might keep one thing in mind—talk to Mr. Roarke. Leslie's lived here more than half her life, and you've had some exposure to mysterious things that only Mr. Roarke would have any knowledge of. If you still want to be tested, that's fine…of course it'll be another month before we can tell you the results."

Christian contemplated that, glanced at Leslie and sighed again. "All right," he said and shrugged. "We've come this far, and although it didn't bother me before, now I find myself wondering. Thank you, doctor."

"Don't lose hope, either of you," Dr. Lambert said. "Before you go, Mr. Enstad, you can set up an appointment for the tests, and then by all means talk to Mr. Roarke. You might find that the answer has nothing to do with established medical science."

"Maybe not," Leslie said with trepidation, "but if it doesn't, that might make the problem unsolvable."

"We'll have to take that chance, my Rose," Christian said gently, rising with her and taking her hand. "Let's go."

After setting up the new appointment, Christian and Leslie returned to the main house and ventured hesitantly inside. Roarke was there, and looked up with surprise. "So, how did the test results turn out?"

"There's nothing medically wrong with me," Leslie said, leading Christian into the room and pausing in front of Roarke's desk. "I suppose I should've known. All that time and expense and waiting, only to find out I'm supposedly normal."

"But," Christian put in, "Dr. Lambert did say we should come and speak with you. I've made an appointment to be tested as well, but perhaps there's more to it than physical problems, and that's where you come in."

"I see," said Roarke. "Sit down, both of you, please." When they had seated themselves, he regarded them for another moment, then asked, "What precisely did Dr. Lambert tell you, Leslie?"

"She said there's no medical reason I haven't conceived, but then said we should come to you since I've had what she called 'exposure to mysterious things'. I guess that means any and every magical thing I've ever dealt with since first coming to live here."

"That would let me out of the picture, then, and if there's something wrong with me, it would be purely physical," Christian mused.

Roarke chuckled. "I can narrow it down considerably," he said. "There is very little that you and I work with, Leslie, that would affect your ability to bear a child, or indeed any other aspect of your health and well-being. Over all the years you were involved in the business, I can think of only one incident that might have affected you in any way—the exorcism of Lempo from Teppo's mind."

"But that was Teppo's problem," Leslie said, frowning. "And you explained that Lempo had never touched me because Teppo was falling in love with me and that prevented him from doing me any harm."

Roarke considered it, nodding. "Yes, but the god was never specifically obligated to leave you in peace once Teppo was freed of his presence. Think back over the years of your marriage to Teppo. Do you recall anything out of the ordinary at all?"

Leslie shook her head. "No, nothing. Not that I didn't get harassed a lot—but that was his family's doing." Then she stilled a second or two before meeting Roarke's gaze. "Unless he was responsible for Mrs. Komainen's loss of sanity…"

Christian put in, "Did she show signs of that before you were married?"

"It started manifesting itself at our wedding, actually," Leslie told him. "At least, that was the first clear indicator. She made that strange request for Teppo's and my tears in a little vial. Nobody knew what that was about."

"Was there a specific trigger?" Christian asked.

"Probably Mr. Komainen's death," Leslie said. "Of course, that could do anyone in, and have nothing at all to do with magic or old gods or anything like that."

Roarke nodded. "I doubt we could ever truly get to the bottom of that; we don't even know if the lady is still alive. What do you recall, Leslie, of the events surrounding Teppo's death? Tell me what you remember."

She let her head droop a bit, casting back. "Well, Mrs. Komainen had gone missing again, and the whole family was out looking for her. Teppo and I went out together. It took us quite a lot of wandering before we found her on the far side of this odd-looking little clearing…perfectly round and with little saplings growing in it…and she saw us, we both knew she did. Teppo told her to come out, but she just stood there and looked at us, so he started to cross the clearing. And out of nowhere, I saw Lempo appear, just like that, from thin air. He sort of wrapped Teppo in this strange misty fog, and the instant that stuff hit him, he was dead—just dropped to the ground and never moved again."

Roarke nodded. "Do you remember, Leslie, what Mrs. Komainen's reaction was when Teppo was killed?"

She sat silent for a moment, straining to remember; Christian reached over and wrapped his hand around hers, and she gripped it without a word. "I was screaming so much," Leslie murmured finally. "But when my throat got sore from screaming and I had to stop, I…that's the first I noticed anything except Teppo lying there. I'd been staring at him the whole time. When I really saw anything again, she was kneeling beside him wailing in Finnish and waving her arms in the air. I couldn't understand her except for when she yelled Teppo's name." She looked up sharply and focused on Roarke. "She'd been on the edge of insanity, and Teppo's death drove her right over the threshold. She was committed while I was unconscious from blacking out at Teppo's funeral."

"So as far as you are aware, she never focused on you," Roarke prompted.

Leslie shook her head. "No, I don't think so. She wouldn't have had any power of her own to prevent me having a baby, and I can't see any reason she'd have been in cahoots with Lempo. Lempo was focused on Teppo, not me. And Mrs. Komainen would much rather have seen me dead than her own son."

Roarke nodded again, satisfied. "I believe you're correct, Leslie. Very good deductive reasoning." He looked thoughtfully at Christian. "You've been here for some little time, Christian, since marrying Leslie, and you spent fairly substantial time here before your wedding; so don't rule yourself out of the equation. However, you've nearly always been less directly involved than Leslie."

"What of Mephistopheles?" Christian asked.

"No," said Roarke, "that's not a factor. There is really only one possibility. When did you first become aware that your brother and nieces were taking amakarna?"

"Just after I pushed for having Marina's and my wedding reception here," Christian told him. "We had returned home and were having dinner at the castle one evening, and I saw Arnulf and the girls using it. I asked what it was and he refused to answer for some reason, perhaps as if he were afraid I might wish some." He smiled wryly. "But Marina recognized it and explained everything to me after we had returned to my flat. That's the first I had ever heard of it. Although, since my father and grandfather were also on it, it must have been present in the castle throughout my life. I never saw it."

"They did not have it in plain sight on the dining table?" Roarke asked.

Christian shook his head. "It apparently wasn't Father's policy to have it out where everyone could see. I learned later from Carl Johan that neither he nor Anna-Laura had known of its existence until Arnulf and Father and the count drew up that marriage contract while I was off doing my military service, and it all came out then, because Mother was livid that I'd been bartered away for it—so I'm told. Arnulf, on the other hand, must have felt it didn't matter who knew or didn't know. In any case, I can't recall ever having had exposure to it."

Roarke considered that for a moment or two. "How did your father handle the administration of the spice?" he asked.

"He had servants add it to his and Arnulf's food in the kitchens," Christian said, "and then to Arnulf's daughters' food as they were put on the stuff."

"I see," Roarke said, looking quite surprised. He leaned forward a bit over the desk. "Do you recall ever having been extremely ill at any time?"

Christian searched his memory for a few minutes, then frowned. "Only once," he said slowly. "When I was sixteen I spent a few days in the hospital for some sort of stomach flu."

"Tell me exactly what happened," Roarke requested.

Christian settled back in the chair and let his gaze drop out of focus. "It was very hot," he recalled, "and no one had much appetite…except Carl Johan's wife Amalia—she was early in her pregnancy with Rudolf and was constantly hungry. In any case, I had some sort of seafood salad and couldn't eat it, so she took it after I asked for a green salad such as my parents had been eating. When I got it, I checked it over to be sure it was prepared as I liked it…"

"What was in it?" Roarke broke in.

Christian blinked, then frowned slightly and combed his memory again. "Just about everything, as I recall," he said. Then the frown deepened. "Oh yes, and there was pepper in it as well. I could see black specks on the lettuce leaves. Anyhow, I mixed it up a bit and took a bite, and within a minute of swallowing it I suddenly had vicious stomach cramps, quite out of nowhere. It felt as if someone had been jamming a knife into me. My stomach ejected what little I had eaten with enormous force—I could barely catch my breath. The family went into a panic and I ended up in the hospital. They tried to give me some water, but that came back up too. Once I was in a hospital bed, I blacked out and didn't awaken for two days. I was informed that I had been deeply unconscious for some time."

Roarke looked very intense. "How did you feel when you first awakened?"

"I felt wide awake," Christian said, "as if I'd had too much coffee—but my muscles weren't under my control. I could move only my eyes at first. I had to be helped to sit up and to hold a glass of water, and only over time did I regain the ability to move."

Roarke closed his eyes briefly before focusing on his son-in-law. "And you were told it was a stomach flu?" Christian nodded, and he sighed gently. "It was no such thing," he said. "The symptoms as you describe them make it clear. You accidentally ingested amakarna, Christian. That's why you vomited so violently and why you lost consciousness, and why you couldn't move for a time upon first waking."

Christian's mouth dropped open. _"Herregud!"_ he breathed. "I was always suspicious of that stomach-flu diagnosis, but I had no way of determining the truth. Amakarna!"

"Father," Leslie said anxiously, "you don't think that might have affected him somehow, do you?"

"I don't know," Roarke said. "The spice does not affect any two persons in exactly the same way, so we must accede to the possibility. At the moment, I can only suggest that you have the tests done, Christian, and wait for the results."

"But Father…if I really am capable of conceiving, as Dr. Lambert implied—and if the amakarna did affect Christian in that capacity—then what could've happened to Teppo to make it impossible for him to impregnate me? I always thought it was me!" Leslie exclaimed.

"I can't say, Leslie," Roarke said. "But don't jump to any conclusions yet."

"I suspect," Christian said, "that you always thought it was you because Teppo's family saw to it that you did. Perhaps it was Teppo then, and perhaps it's me now. We should know for certain in a few weeks."

"And what happens in the meantime?" Leslie asked.

Christian grinned. "We just keep trying," he said. "Whatever the outcome is, I'm willing to accept it and I'm prepared to live with it." He looked at Roarke and added, "We both thank you for the help…at least we have some possibilities to consider."

"Indeed," Roarke agreed. "I am sorry I couldn't have been of more help."

"You were more help than you think," Christian assured him. "I'd never known until today that it was amakarna that made me so ill that one time. I knew it was no stomach flu, but nothing else I had ever heard of fit the problem, and now you've answered a question I've had for almost thirty years." He turned to Leslie and smiled at her. "Shall we go on home and try to enjoy our weekend?"

Leslie smiled back. "Sure…as long as you help me do some laundry first." She grinned at Christian's eye-roll and said to Roarke, "Thanks again, Father. See you Wednesday."

"Don't spend too much time fretting about it," Roarke advised them. "Nothing is definite, and perhaps the tests will give you the answer. Just don't forget to enjoy each other before anything else."

§ § § -- October 11, 2003

When the enormously overweight woman squeezed out of the plane and started down the dock, Roarke cast Leslie a glance to see what her reaction was. His daughter peered at their newest guest, squinted, then shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be anyone but Cori Mukulani!" she exclaimed. "Where was she that she came in on the charter? I mean, she still lives right here on the island!"

"She was apparently visiting family in Hawaii," Roarke said, "and decided to return here via the charter. But as a matter of fact, Leslie, she does have a fantasy."

"I expect it involves major weight loss," Leslie said.

"Now, Leslie," Roarke said with mild reproach. "In fact, she has a wish to meet someone of your acquaintance—namely Prince Carlono of Arcolos."

Leslie gave him a long, stunned stare. "Carlono only just got here yesterday," she said. "If Cori was in Hawaii, how did she know he was here?"

"Miss Mukulani is very much enamored of the prince and follows his every move very closely," Roarke explained. "It has been a longtime dream of hers to meet him, and she has finally been given the chance. So that's what we're going to do for her this weekend."

Leslie said, "Well, I hope Carlono's prepared. Maybe I should forewarn him."

"Leslie Susan," Roarke said, slightly more reproachfully than before.

"Did I ever tell you what she was really like in school?" Leslie asked, turning to him. "Father, she had a reputation—not for being overweight, but for having the most sensitive hair-trigger temper ever seen in man or beast. Do you remember in the middle of my senior year when you had to come pick me up because I got sick in school? You might recall that it was because Cori tried to give me a cigarette."

"I do remember that," Roarke said, "and you need not tell me again. Why don't you give the lady a chance to explain herself before you judge her." With that, he took his glass and raised it in toast, while Leslie tried to avoid Cori's direct gaze and felt the first butterflies flapping into life in her stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- October 11, 2003

"Okay, so when does my fantasy start?" was the first thing out of Cori Mukulani's mouth when she walked into the study.

"As soon as you tell me a little more about it, Miss Mukulani," replied Roarke, quite unperturbed. "I understand that you and my daughter knew each other in high school."

"We did…sort of," Cori allowed, eyeing Leslie, who simply looked back without a word. In fact it was just about all Leslie could do to keep her nervousness from showing; Cori had always intimidated her in school, and it was annoying to find the woman still had that effect on her twenty years later. "Not that you could ever call us friends."

Roarke looked curiously at her. "Oh?"

Cori snorted. "Aw, c'mon, Mr. Roarke, you probably heard every dirty little story she had to tell. I know she had a certain circle she ran around with, and I definitely wasn't part of it. I wasn't part of anyone's circle. If you want to get technical about it, I never had any friends all the way through high school. I've always been this big, and I've always been ticked off by people."

"Why is that?" Roarke inquired before Cori could go on.

"Why is what?" Cori asked blankly.

"Why are you so easily angered?" Roarke clarified.

"Oh." Cori shrugged. "I don't know. I just am. To tell the truth, it's come in handy. I work in the bar just near the fishing village—that's where I've lived all my life. The farthest I ever went from home was the pineapple plantation, up till the time those scumbags set fire to the overseer's house and my sister and brother-in-law moved to Hawaii. My brother-in-law was the overseer and my sister was his secretary, and she's as big as I am. They usually had no trouble kicking out the bad seeds, but sometimes they'd get a few too many and call me in. It was good extra money, and I had a great time beating 'em up." She paused, but neither Roarke nor Leslie spoke, so she shrugged again and continued. "Anyway, I'm aware that I have a certain reputation in some parts. I know I did in high school. Everybody was scared of me because of my temper, and that in itself used to make me mad. I was the school outcast, and your daughter there got in with some girls who already had certain ideas about me and what I was like. Tried to make friends with her once in senior year, when all those other girls were out sick for some reason and she was having lunch alone." She gave Leslie a sharp look.

"You mean the time you tried to push that cancer stick on me? Are you trying to convince me that was an attempt to make friends?" Leslie demanded in disbelief.

Cori grinned. "Hey, what'dja want? Is it my fault you upchucked all over the place?" Her grin faded when Leslie nodded, and she snorted again. "That's what I get. Well, anyway, Mr. Roarke, I figured I'd put my size and my temper to good advantage. I'm the bouncer at the bar, and anybody makes trouble, I throw 'em out. They can't budge me, and believe me, most of them try."

"Have you then become dissatisfied with that?" Roarke asked. "It's my understanding that you perform your job extremely well, and neither the bar owner nor the constabulary—nor, for that matter, I myself—can be anything but appreciative."

Cori looked very surprised. "They said that? Wow. Yeah, well, it's just that…I've been thinking. I, uh…" She looked warily at Leslie, then said, "Mr. Roarke, does she have to be in here while I tell you this?"

"She _is_ my assistant," Roarke said, "but if you prefer to keep this private…"

Cori hung there for a moment, indecisiveness written all over her large Polynesian face; then she grunted, "Aw, well, she'll probably find out sooner or later. I always had this secret wish that I was skinny. It'd be nice to be seen as something besides Fat 'n' Furious Cori. That's what they called me in elementary school." She shifted uncomfortably and met Roarke's inquisitive gaze. "So then I get to high school, see, and all of a sudden everybody's getting taller and outgrowing their baby fat—except me. Mine just grew right along with me. And then Leslie shows up in eighth grade, and she's this little twig of a thing, and on top of that she's famous because she's your ward. I saw her in the halls that first day, with Myeko Sensei and Michiko Tokita. That's when I knew we were never gonna be friends. The whole school liked Michiko because she was so nicey-nice, and everybody liked Myeko because she was funnier than hell and loved to have a good time, and her Halloween parties were legend. I never once got invited." Leslie felt her face go red; she still recalled her own suggestion to her friends that they invite someone who otherwise never got to go anywhere, and she also remembered Lauren's reaction to that. She kept quiet and hoped Cori wouldn't notice. "It's hard being an outcast, Mr. Roarke. I was mad at the world and I figured I'd just live down to everybody's low expectations of me. I tried a few times to slim down, but I like food too much."

"I see," said Roarke. "Well, then, and how did you become interested in Prince Carlono? He was little-known beyond Europe for many years."

"I read the _National Enquirer_, Mr. Roarke," Cori said, sounding offended. "I know what really goes on in these people's lives." Leslie rolled her eyes, and Cori caught her at it. "Yeah, yeah, you think it's a trash rag. You might be interested to know that you and your prince have been in it countless times. When it came out about that punker he dated having AIDS, they reported her entire life in minute detail. Someone did a lot of research."

"Someone most likely did a lot of fabricating," Leslie retorted, her ire raised by Cori's reference to the Astrid Franzén flap.

"Whatever you say, sweetie," Cori said, smirking. "I read all the stories about Carlono. How he's getting tired of being seen as a playboy and wants to find a good woman. I could be that woman, Mr. Roarke, if you give me my fantasy. I mean, hell—if a no-name orphan like Leslie Hamilton could marry a prince, then why can't I?"

Roarke cleared his throat slightly and gave Leslie an apologetic glance; she shook her head and eyed Cori partly in annoyance and partly in wariness. "I can give you your fantasy, Miss Mukulani," Roarke said, "but I must warn you that that's all it can be. I can introduce you to Prince Carlono, but what happens thereafter is entirely up to him. I cannot control his emotions, nor any decision he makes. I hope you haven't placed too many hopes on this fantasy, for I cannot guarantee a happy ending."

Cori cleared her throat. "I guess I can understand that, but I was sort of hoping for something else too, Mr. Roarke. Could I be skinny too, just this once?" She saw Roarke start to reply and blurted, "Wait, hear me out. I know a handsome prince like that would never look twice at a blob like me. So I gotta be skinny when I meet him, just so I can keep his interest long enough for him to get to know me, and maybe see past all the fat and even the temper. Please, Mr. Roarke!" Leslie and Roarke looked at each other; Leslie was more than a little amazed to see Cori begging like that. Roarke noticed the look in her eyes and smiled. Cori, noting their exchange, snapped, "Seriously, Mr. Roarke, do you have to consult with her? I thought you were the one who was the boss!"

Roarke sat slowly back in his chair and regarded her long enough for her burst of temper to melt into a bout of impatient fidgeting; having calmed her to some extent, he said, "It's possible to do that, but you must be clear that this, also, is a fantasy and cannot last beyond the weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Cori blurted, her impatience instantly boiling forth. "I understand the nature of the business—I've lived here all my life, for cripes' sake. I saved up for five years to have this fantasy, Mr. Roarke, and when I heard the prince was on the island, I knew it was the perfect opportunity. Now I'm telling you, I'm not spending my hard-earned savings just to hear over and over again that it's all temporary. It's what I want, dammit, so I don't want to hear any more warnings and platitudes. I just want to be skinny and meet Prince Carlono, and maybe get him to fall in love with me."

"Very well," said Roarke, a little coolly, with a sort of "all right, you asked for it" mien, and arose. "Leslie, you'll find the mirror in the front storage room."

"Will it work for…that?" Leslie asked, flicking a wary glance at Cori.

"Yes, it will," Roarke assured her. "Go ahead."

Leslie shrugged and rounded the desk, taking care to give Cori a healthy berth. She had to admit it was something of a relief to get away from her former schoolmate; it was pretty clear that Cori had no particular fondness for her. She made her way into the outer foyer, where Roarke kept an umbrella stand and a coat tree; there was a door on the north wall that led into a small room that she very seldom had reason to enter. This room sat partially under her old bedroom and looked out on the lane; the shutters on the window were always kept closed, for reasons even most islanders had no knowledge about. Here were the trappings of decades of fantasies: framed paintings, murals and photographs stacked against each other on the floor, a small golden object that Tattoo had once thought was Aladdin's lamp, a wooden sawhorse, a ship's wheel, some empty dress forms, some others containing World-War-II-vintage military uniforms, and a table bearing five or six ornate lead-crystal decanters that had held many a potion in their day. In the corner right of the window was the mirror that Jasmine Bellflower had used that spring, draped with its metallic-gold cloth. Leslie wheeled it out and into the inner foyer, positioning it at the top of the steps to one side.

"Thank you, Leslie," Roarke said, rising and coming around the desk in his own turn, addressing Cori. "This mirror will give you part of your fantasy." As he spoke Leslie flipped back the gold cloth, revealing the delicate etched-glass frame and the dark mahogany stand. Cori stared at it, falling speechless for the first time. Roarke gestured to the mirror; looking a bit reluctant, Cori shuffled over to it and stared at her image in it. Her face was a study in mixed emotion: trepidation, bewilderment, self-disgust at her reflection, hope, and the ever-present belligerence always burning in those eyes. Leslie stood in silence and watched her and Roarke.

Finally Cori said, "How's this thing work?"

"It's very simple, Miss Mukulani," Roarke assured her. "You need only make a wish as to what you want changed, and it will happen. The effect will last until six tomorrow evening. Since you want to be thin, just state the wish."

She threw him a dubious look, but he nodded encouragingly; so she shrugged and turned back to her reflection. After a little thought she took a deep breath and said slowly, "I wish I were the ideal weight for my height."

And as Cori stared at her reflection and Roarke and Leslie at her, she visibly shrank in size, almost in a cartoonish fashion. As the weight melted away, her jeans loosened and began to fall, and she frantically grabbed the waistline and held them up. Her T-shirt went from snug to baggy; her substantial double chin disappeared and her feet suddenly looked lost in her large sandals. Cori's mouth fell open and dangled while she gaped and gaped at her new slender self. After quite some time she breathed, "I've never _not_ been fat in my whole life. I can't believe I could look like that." She turned to Roarke and asked in a very uncharacteristic pleading tone, "Can't I stay this way for good?"

"I am sorry, Miss Mukulani. As I explained to you before, it's a fantasy and cannot last past this weekend," Roarke said, with an apologetic tone to his voice.

Cori sighed. "Well, I had to try, y'know. Thanks for this much, anyway. Where can I find Prince Carlono?"

"Leslie will take you to him," Roarke said, with a gesture at his daughter. Leslie gave a silent nod and started into the foyer; Cori followed, still holding up her jeans and casting several glances back at the mirror till she could no longer see herself in it.

Outside Cori cleared her throat. "Uh, hey, Leslie…"

Leslie paused a few paces ahead of her. "Yes?"

"Would you mind if we go shopping a little first?" Cori asked hesitantly. "If I have to keep holding up my pants, it's gonna look pretty silly."

Faintly Leslie smiled, her guard very much up. "Sure," she said. "Any special place you want to go?"

"Aw, not really, just the souvenir shop in town," Cori said with a shrug. "All I need is a T-shirt and shorts that fit." Then she turned very red and mumbled, "And maybe I oughta, you know, shave my legs. I never go around in shorts in public, not as fat as I am…was…so I don't bother with that. But if I'm gonna…uh…"

Leslie considered it a moment. "Tell you what, we'll get you the shirt and shorts, and then we'll go over to the spa just off the square. They'll take good care of you."

"I can't afford that," Cori protested.

"Just think of it as part of your fantasy," Leslie said. "After all, you want to look really good for the prince, and there's no reason you can't go all out. We'll even provide formalwear for you for the dance party he's having this evening."

"No kidding?" Cori demanded.

"No kidding," Leslie assured her, her smile widening a little. "Come on, let's go."

In town Cori glanced warily around the square, her eyes darting from one thing to another, scrutinizing the tourists already frequenting the shops. Her gaze lit on the storefront where Christian's office was located, and she said, "Hey, is that where your prince has his company? Sure looks small for an international conglomerate."

Leslie grinned, parking in front of the café a few shops down. "Here, it doesn't need to be that big. His London and Sundborg branches are bigger than this. The spa's down the pedestrian shopway here." Around the corner from the café began a narrow brick walk dotted with trees, strategically placed refuse containers artfully hidden behind well-tended flowering bushes, old-fashioned street lamps, and umbrella-shaded tables. The walkway was flanked by picturesque two-story shops that catered primarily to the tourists and the fantasizers; it looked a little like old-time New England, and in her teens Leslie had always loved strolling these walks and pretending she was visiting Connecticut again.

Cori got out of the car and paused. "You've met Prince Carlono, haven't you?"

"A few times," Leslie said. "I know King Errico a little better though."

"Yeah, I guess you would, since that Michiko Tokita married him," Cori mused. "Does your prince know him at all?"

"I know Christian's met him at least once," Leslie said, "but I don't know how well he knows him. We're not really that closely acquainted with him. Why?"

Cori shrugged self-consciously. "Just thought you could give me a little insight on what he's really like, in person, y'know."

"I see," said Leslie. "Well, maybe I can get hold of someone who'd have a much better idea of that. First, let's get you those new clothes, and then we'll go to the spa and I'll leave you in their capable hands. Believe me, if you think you don't recognize yourself now, you'll really get a shock when they're finished with you."

"It better be a good shock, or else I'll want my money back," Cori threatened.

Leslie stiffened and said coolly, "You'll see." With that she struck out ahead of Cori, wondering if she was going to survive this weekend. Cori followed her in silence, and Leslie stood aside watching while Cori spent twenty minutes going through shorts and finally choosing a pair of white ones to go with a pretty, dark-blue T-shirt that was screen-printed with a large hibiscus and the words _Fantasy Island_ underneath it in fancy script. She also chose a new pair of locally-woven straw sandals before deciding she had enough. Leslie had a quick couple of words with the cashier, then led Cori out of the shop and down the covered walkway towards the pedestrian shopping area.

The spa was located in a narrow brick building with a large round window on either side of the entrance. Leslie preceded Cori inside and smiled at the receptionist. "Our guest here would like the full treatment," she said. "Massage, manicure, pedicure…"

"And leg-shaving," Cori put in firmly.

"Facial mask also, Miss Leslie?" the receptionist asked.

Leslie looked at Cori, who nodded, and said, "Yes, that as well. Just put it on the account, okay?"

"Will do, Miss Leslie. The lady'll have her new look in about an hour."

"Great," said Leslie. "I'll be back then, Cori." She waited long enough for another nod from Cori, then smiled a little, gave the receptionist a wider one, and left. Once outside the door she felt her tension ease instantly, and shook her head to herself, heading back up to the square with the intention of dropping in on Christian. She glanced at her watch as she went, already feeling a little better.

"Any excuse to interrupt me, my Rose, is that it?" Christian asked her teasingly when she came in and took the chair beside his desk.

"Of course," she said, grinning at him. A computer tower, its housing removed and its innards exposed to daylight, sat on a two-foot-wide arm of his desk that stretched out from the main desktop where his computer and other things were located; this "arm" got a good bit of use when he personally was effecting repairs. "Mind if I use your phone?"

"Go ahead," Christian agreed, pushing his desk phone in her direction. "Aren't you at work, though? Or is this part of it?"

Leslie nodded, picking up the receiver. "In a way," she said and gave him a wry look. "You'll never guess whose fantasy I'm in charge of this weekend."

"I expect not," Christian said with a chuckle. "Whose, then?"

"Cori Mukulani's," she told him.

Christian froze where he sat and stared at her. "The cigarette girl?" he asked.

Leslie laughed. "The very one," she said. "She wants to meet Prince Carlono live and in the flesh. Right now she's at the spa getting all spiffed up, and she asked me what I knew about Carlono and then what you knew about him. It gave me the idea to call Anna-Kristina and have her come up and have a chat with Cori. If anyone on this island knows Carlono, she'd be the one."

"That's true," Christian said, nodding. "But if you'll pardon my saying so, I doubt that Carlono will do more than take one glance at her and dismiss her entirely."

"Oh, but you don't have the full story, my love," Leslie said with a grin. "Wait till you see her once she gets out of the spa." She punched out the Apanas' phone number and had a short conversation with Anna-Kristina, then settled back in the chair. "So…how complicated is this repair turning out to be?"

"Not very," Christian said. "Actually it's not even a repair; I'm simply installing a raft of new hardware for someone from the military base on Coral Island. It's a good thing it's reasonably quiet. Mateo's out sick today, and Anton, Julianne and Jonathan are all out handling problems at assorted businesses around town. Actually, it's well that you called my niece. I meant to ask her how the adoption from China is progressing."

"I hear they're really slow, especially for first-time adopters," Leslie noted. "It could take at least a year and maybe longer." She leaned across the work arm of Christian's desk and rested her chin in her hand, watching him carefully settle a gadget inside the open tower and secure it in place. "What's Mateo sick with?"

"Some bug or another," Christian said. "He sounded terrible when he called. I expect now Anna-Kristina will be infected with it, and she'll bring it directly to us."

"Now you tell me," Leslie said, rolling her eyes.

Christian grinned. "It's probably nothing. Now, are you planning to bring Cori back here when her spa session is over, or take Anna-Kristina over there to see her?"

"Bring her back," Leslie said. "If it's okay with you, of course."

"It's too quiet in here with everyone else gone," said Christian. "I don't mind. If she still smokes, however, I'm going to insist that she step outside."

Leslie eyed him impishly till he paused long enough to meet her gaze. "If you really want to know, why don't you ask her?" she suggested, grinning at him.

Christian snorted and shook his head, then chuckled. "I'm not sure I should. Not with the size she is. I might be taller, but she has more sheer bulk on her, and she'd win any fight we might get into."

"Not this weekend," Leslie said, and he gave her a puzzled look. She just smiled. "She should be done in about 45 more minutes, so I'll go and get her then. And then you might not have so many qualms about asking her if she still has that habit."

"If you say so, my Rose," Christian said and shrugged amiably, then rolled his chair closer to her and leaned onto the work arm till their foreheads touched. He mirrored her position with his own chin in one hand and regarded her with his eyes alight. "You say we have 45 minutes. Do you intend to sit here and distract me beyond temptation all that time, or did you have something else in mind?"

"My goodness," Leslie murmured, a faint smile on her face, "do you have that little self-control, my love? I'm just sitting here."

"That's quite enough," Christian assured her, raising an eyebrow. "You have only to be yourself, just sitting there, and it's very much enough."

She lifted the hand that wasn't supporting her chin and grasped his free hand. "I see. Well, then, should I walk out?"

"Not on your life," Christian breathed, and their faint grins disappeared in their kiss. They let it linger for a long sweet moment; then Christian reluctantly pulled back and tossed a glance out the window. "We're a little too visible to those in the street," he admitted with a deep sigh. "I wonder if there might be some excuse for my staying at the main house tonight? Can you think of anything?"

Leslie watched him collect himself with an effort and deliberately pick up another gadget to install in the computer tower. "Well, Prince Carlono's here," she mused, "and we have word that he wants to have a small formal party at the bungalow Father gave him. It's part of Cori's fantasy for her to be there. And if royal parties really last as long as you used to tell me they do…"

"Oh, they do," Christian assured her, grinning as he secured the new item inside the tower. "I doubt the nature of royal parties has changed much since I lost the title."

"Then it probably won't end till at least midnight," Leslie speculated, "and by then you'll be completely worn out, between that and a full day at work…"

Christian interrupted, "This, of course, assumes that I'll be there. And what of you, don't you plan to be there too?"

"Do you think I'd let you go stag to any party?" she shot back, and he laughed. "Tell you what, Father and I both are going to be there—it's all but mandatory. Does that affect your decision about going?"

"Immensely," Christian said, still grinning. "I wouldn't want my wife to be there all on her own, when I know for a fact that at one time Carlono was attracted to you and had to be scared off by Errico, and that Carlono continues to bear a reputation as a playboy."

"Father would step in if he had to," Leslie teased.

"I'd prefer to step in myself," Christian said, and she giggled and patted his arm. "Oh yes, believe me, I'll be there. Midnight, you say? Are you so certain it'll end by then?"

"Any reason it shouldn't?" Leslie asked.

"It's Carlono we're discussing, my darling," Christian pointed out. "I expect it will go on rather longer than midnight. If Cori Mukulani wants to endure it till the bitter end, that's up to her. But at midnight, you and I are leaving together, even if Mr. Roarke remains. We both have work tomorrow. And it might well be more convenient for me to stay at the main house in that case. We'd spend less time getting to a bed so that we can sleep, and in the morning I'll have a shorter commute here. Yes, I think that's a very attractive option."

Leslie studied her husband with amusement. "And this from a man who's always loathed parties and made sure people knew it."

"I'll tell you something," Christian said, pausing again and eyeing her with meaning, "if you had been with me at any of those royal parties I had to endure across the years, I'd have found them far less troublesome."

Laughing, Leslie checked her watch and then half arose so she could lean across the work arm and kiss him. "I think it might be fun to go to one of the royal Christmas balls one of these years. I can tell you one thing, you wouldn't be sitting on the dais staring at people and wondering who in heck might be worth dancing with."

"No," Christian admitted through his own laughter, "that much is certain." Something caught his eye and he glanced past her, just as the bell on the door jangled. "Ah, good morning, _Kattersprinsessan_. How's Mateo, any better?"

Leslie turned around as Anna-Kristina came in, and the princess gave her aunt a quick hug and perched on the edge of the desk while Leslie resumed her chair. "I told him he might as well go to sleep," she said. "He must have caught a cold from someone. I've never heard anyone sound so much like a frog when he tried to speak. I don't think he'll be in tomorrow either, Uncle Christian, so I hope you're prepared."

Christian sighed. "Well, I'll just have to make do. I've relied on Jörgen in Sundborg and Mateo here for so long that I'm not altogether sure I can remember much of what's involved in managing the place. Jonathan knows some of it, so he can serve as backup today if he must, but he's off tomorrow."

"You ought to be able to get by one day without him," Anna-Kristina said. "All right, so anyhow, here I am. What's happening, Aunt Leslie?"

Leslie smiled. "We have a guest who's got some questions for you. Give me another ten minutes and I'll go get her…she's having a spa treatment done."

"Oh, what fun!" exclaimed Anna-Kristina happily. "Mateo gave me a gift certificate to that place for my birthday. I felt like a princess again."

"What's the word on the relinquishment of the title?" Christian asked.

"Gabriella tells me about half the parliament has signed the documentation, but she says there's a lot of reluctance about stripping me of my title since it's not been so long since they revoked yours. In fact, she even mentioned that some politician or another brought up the idea of passing a law that restricts title revocation to one prince or princess per century. Isn't that simply medieval?"

"Utterly," said Christian a little dryly.

Leslie, grinning at his tone, turned to Anna-Kristina. "You don't have any intention of moving back to Lilla Jordsö, though, do you? If you don't, and they don't revoke your title, you'll be breaking the law, as I understand it."

"Yes, you're right, I would," Anna-Kristina realized, looking surprised. "Well, we couldn't exactly move back to Lilla Jordsö. Mateo's job is here, and he can't speak _jordiska_. And I don't know if he'd really want to be a prince anyway."

"How do you know? Have you asked him?" Christian inquired.

Leslie giggled. "Before this turns into a debate, let me go get Cori. Be back shortly, and don't let me catch you two fighting." Christian shook his head and Anna-Kristina made a face, and she giggled again and left the office.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- October 11, 2003

Cori was waiting in the lobby. "About time you showed up," she snapped.

The receptionist gave Leslie a sympathetic look. "They finished ahead of schedule, Miss Leslie," she explained apologetically. "The account's all settled."

"Good, thank you," said Leslie. "Well, follow me, Cori." She turned on one heel and left the spa, without bothering to check and see if Cori did as bidden. Leslie had to admit that she had some hope that Cori would finally be intimidated by either Carlono himself, or his upcoming formal-dress party that evening.

Neither spoke till they reached Enstad Computer Services again. By then Christian had returned his full attention to his installation work, and Anna-Kristina was at Mateo's desk, on the phone there. When they came in, Anna-Kristina glanced up and made some excuse to whoever was on the other end, and Christian arose, looking quizzical. "Well, we're back. Cori Mukulani," Leslie said, "meet Princess Anna-Kristina of Lilla Jordsö, and my husband, Christian Enstad, formerly Prince Christian—Anna-Kristina's uncle."

Cori stared at Christian, who was staring right back with disbelieving eyes; then she became aware that Anna-Kristina was watching her expectantly, and presented the princess with a clumsy curtsy. "Sorry, Princess," Cori mumbled, looking abashed.

"I am happy to meet you," said Anna-Kristina, with a slightly cool formality that belied her youth and her sometimes-astounding naïveté. "My aunt tells me you have some questions you wish to ask me."

"Uh…yeah, I do," Cori said, still clearly overwhelmed. "I hope you don't mind." She glanced nervously at Christian, who was still gaping, and out of nowhere her temper flared. "What in hell are you looking at?"

It served to chase the stunned expression from Christian's features, and he too grew suddenly regal. "An apparent impossibility," he replied, with a raised eyebrow and a touch of frost coating his words. "I must assume my father-in-law intervened, because otherwise I would never believe this is the same Cori Mukulani I've heard Leslie tell me so many stories about. And if, as I am told, you wish to meet Prince Carlono, perhaps you'd better learn to show just a little more respect—beginning here and now."

By the time he finished speaking, Cori's mouth was hanging open, and Leslie and Anna-Kristina dared exchange fleeting glances of amused satisfaction. Finally she said, "I guess you really were a prince once. Nobody but royalty could have that snobbish tone." She eyed Leslie. "I suppose you're gonna tell me you became a princess when you married him. Isn't that a crock. The no-name orphan becoming a princess."

Leslie had had it. "Dammit, Cori, what _is_ it with you?" she snapped, glaring. "I'm completely fed up with your temper and your sniping. I don't know what your problem is, but you'd better get over yourself right now, or so help me, I'll just take you right back to your bungalow and leave you there till it's time to get ready for the party, and then I'll just throw you at Prince Carlono and let you fend for yourself without any preparation whatsoever. If you ever wondered why no one ever wanted to be friends with you, then that's your answer. I've never in my life met anyone with a worse hair-trigger temper than you, and you obviously prefer insulting people to getting along with them. Now for the last time, do you really want this fantasy or not? Do you want it to go as smoothly as possible, or should I drop you off on the prince's doorstep and let you ruin your chances with him the second you open your big mouth?"

Cori gaped at her, clearly totally sideswiped. "Hell," she said finally.

"I'll send you there if you don't shape up," Leslie retorted, still riled.

Cori fell back a step and lifted her hands in surrender; she and Leslie both missed the merry looks Christian and Anna-Kristina exchanged. "Okay, okay, back down. I didn't realize you had a temper too. Man, never thought anybody'd have the guts to shout me down." A grudging admiration flickered across her face, then vanished.

"So," said Anna-Kristina, "it's Prince Carlono you wanted to ask me about, then?"

"Oh…yeah," Cori said, blinking and turning back to the princess. Anna-Kristina had the regal look about her again. "Sorry, Princess. Uh, is it okay if I call you Anna-Kristina?"

"You may call me Your Highness," Anna-Kristina replied coolly. At that both Leslie and Christian repressed delighted grins.

"Right, Your Highness," Cori mumbled. "I was just wondering…what's he really like, anyway? I mean, I know he really likes women and all, and he keeps going from one to another to another…but is it true he's a playboy like all the magazines say?" She hesitated while Anna-Kristina considered the question, and then added, "And how do you know him, exactly? Are you friends?"

"I was very briefly engaged to him early this year," Anna-Kristina said. Cori turned white, and Christian and Leslie looked at each other.

"You were?" Cori asked faintly.

"I thought you kept up with every move the prince made," Leslie said, surprised. "Are you saying you didn't know about that?"

"Well, I…I…I just thought it was one of those fabrications," Cori said, floundering. "I thought it was a publicity stunt." She stared at Anna-Kristina. "How come you didn't marry him, then? I mean, I see you're wearing a ring and all—"

Anna-Kristina smiled at that. "I've married a resident of this island," she said. "But no, Prince Carlono did ask me to marry him. We were seeing each other for two years, and I learned a great deal about him. As a matter of fact, he is actually looking for a wife. He's thirty-seven now, and both his brothers are married and have children. He came to realize in the last few years that it's time he stopped running around and found a wife of his own, but so far he simply hasn't had any luck."

"Why didn't you marry him?" Cori asked again.

Anna-Kristina regarded her. "I didn't love him," she said after a moment, "and that's all you need to know."

"Well, I do," Cori stated flatly, her temper bubbling up a little. "I can't for the life of me figure out how any woman could _not_ love a prince. Just look at the guy. Carlono's handsome and suave and sexy, and he'd be a dream come true."

"He's extremely regal," Anna-Kristina told her. "If you think my uncle and I acted like cold royals, wait until you see Carlono in full temper, or when someone offends him. It doesn't take much. The Arcolosian royal family is very, _very_ royal, and even though their people love them and revere them, the whole family is clearly many levels above them, socially and financially, and in many other ways. Carlono would never dare to marry a woman who didn't have some sort of title or riches or fame. Any of the three."

"Then I don't have a prayer, do I?" Cori asked, dismayed.

Anna-Kristina shrugged. "Normally you wouldn't. But Aunt Leslie said something about a fantasy. Maybe he'll be willing to dance and talk with you."

"Oh crap," Cori groaned, stricken anew. "And I can't even dance!"

"Dance lessons are part of the fantasy too," Leslie said.

"You and Mr. Roarke really think of everything," Cori said, sighing. "Look, I really want this to work. I got all gussied up and skinnied up for this, and now I guess I have to be trained too. Who's gonna teach me all this junk?"

Leslie smiled. "There's a formal-dance school down in the marina neighborhood. You have a crash-course class there starting right after lunch, and that'll last a couple of hours. Then we'll come back up here and have you fitted for the evening gown you'll be wearing to the party."

Cori breathed an awed curse, and Christian cleared his throat. "I think," he suggested gently, "you might prefer to tone down your language. While I'm better acquainted with King Errico than Prince Carlono, I do know that they're very refined and won't tolerate such talk." He turned to Leslie. "My Rose, if you can talk to Mr. Roarke about it, perhaps he could arrange for a short course in conduct."

"I could look into that," Leslie agreed.

Cori turned very red and admitted, "I guess I could use it. I was always getting suspended in elementary school for talking back and cursing."

Leslie grinned, picking up the receiver of Christian's desk phone. "Let me see what I can do." She punched out 001 and a moment later said, "Hi, Father, it's Leslie. I'm at Christian's office with him and Anna-Kristina and Cori, so Anna-Kristina could tell her a little more about Carlono. Christian mentioned trying to find someone who might be able to help her learn to act more formally in Carlono's presence."

On the other end Roarke said, "I tried to make arrangements for that, but unfortunately, there was no one suitable who had the time to do it. However, I do have one suggestion. If Anna-Kristina is willing—and perhaps Christian as well, if he isn't too busy —they might give Miss Mukulani a few tips."

"Well, I'll see what I can do," Leslie said. "Thanks, Father." She hung up and said, "Well, here's the scoop. Father said we couldn't find anyone who teaches the equivalent of Royal Comportment classes…and he wondered if you'd be willing to give her an overview, Anna-Kristina. Maybe you too, my love, if you're not busy."

Anna-Kristina surveyed Cori thoughtfully, then said, "Hmm…it might be fun. It would certainly be a challenge. What do you think?"

Cori blinked. "You'd do that?"

The princess nodded. "Uncle Christian?" she said.

Christian studied his computer project and made a couple of contemplative expressions; then he nodded slowly. "I think I can do that," he said. "It will have to be in here, I'm afraid, since all the others are out at the moment and I can't leave the office. Anna-Kristina, suppose you start, and you might help her however you can, my Rose. I have only a couple of things left to install in this tower, and when I've finished and closed it up, I'll join you. Is that acceptable, Miss Mukulani?"

"I guess…I mean, sure…uh, that's fine, Your Highness," Cori fumbled, reddening.

Christian smiled at her, but Leslie noticed he didn't bother correcting her use of the honorific and was secretly amused. In her opinion, it was high time Cori learned she wasn't the only one with a formidable temper. "Very well, then," he said. "Let me get back to this, and I'll be with you as soon as I can." Anna-Kristina took Cori off to the other side of the office and appropriated chairs from Julianne's, Jonathan's and Anton's desks, while Christian reached out and caught Leslie before she could go with them. "Are you very sure that's Cori Mukulani? How did she lose all that weight?" he whispered to her.

"Remember the mirror and Jasmine Bellflower's awful little dog?" she whispered back to him, and he nodded, scowling at the memory. "We brought the mirror back out, and she used it to slim down. But Father made it plain that it's just for the weekend."

"Ah, I see," Christian murmured. "I suppose I should have known who she was when she let her temper get loose, but the lack of weight…well…" He shrugged and then noted, "She turned out to be surprisingly attractive, physically anyhow. But I have only this to say: better Carlono than me, and thank fate that you're the one I'm going to his dance with."

Leslie snickered. "You're still incorrigible, my darling," she said, making him smirk, and kissed him softly. "See you over there." Christian nodded, chuckling, and she crossed the office, where Anna-Kristina was already instructing Cori in how to sit and stand gracefully. Leslie leaned against Julianne's desk and looked on. From there Anna-Kristina then showed Cori how to walk instead of swagger, and sharply corrected her every time she used a curse word. Leslie began to grin.

"Look, I'm not good with this kind of stuff," Cori barked impatiently at one point.

"It's for the prince," Leslie reminded her. "Unless you've changed your mind."

Cori grumbled but submitted anew, and Leslie relaxed again. About ten minutes later Christian wandered over to join them, wrapping his arms around Leslie from behind and watching with amused silence. After awhile, when Anna-Kristina paused to try to think of something else, he remarked, "You should have brought in a pair of high heels. You'd have to teach her to walk in those."

"I am not wearing heels," Cori said, glowering.

"Oh yes you are," Leslie assured her. "If I have to wear them, you definitely do."

Cori exploded finally, "What're you trying to do, kill me here? I just want to meet the prince, for cryin' out loud!"

Christian looked curiously at Leslie. "Do you think this is going to be worth it?" he asked her.

"I don't know," Leslie said, sighing.

"Look at me," Anna-Kristina commanded, catching Cori's startled attention. "I'll say this once, so I hope you're listening to me. Carlono will not even notice you, except to be disgusted by you, if you are yourself in front of him. Maybe you're just a hopeless case, Cori Mukulani, but you insisted that you're in love with him. If you really are, and if you truly want so badly to meet him, then _shut your mouth and pay attention to me!"_

Even Cori reared back at the force of her words; Christian and Leslie grinned, both blinking. "Well, well," Christian remarked, amused. "The one-time future queen finally makes her appearance again. I haven't heard you hand down a royal edict since you decided to turn the throne over to Briella."

Anna-Kristina fumed, "She really makes the queen in me come out. I've never met anyone I disliked more, and I like everyone." She rounded on Cori. "What do we have to do to convince you that you have to go through all this if you want even the smallest chance with Carlono?"

"Is he really that damn formal?" Cori wanted to know.

"Yes, he is," Anna-Kristina said decisively. "You claim to know a lot about him, but I think you've been reading garbage like the _National Enquirer_ if you don't know just how formal he is."

"Damned formal, indeed," Christian said dryly. "If I thought Mr. Roarke had a pill or a potion that cured bad language, I'd ask him to give you a double dose."

"This," Leslie murmured heavily, "could be the first impossible fantasy I've ever been witness to. Cori, if you have that much trouble controlling yourself, you might just as well give up right here and now. We can do only so much for you; you need to make an effort and meet us halfway." She studied Anna-Kristina. "What've you taught her so far?"

Anna-Kristina ticked off a finger with each item. "Sitting and rising with at least a little grace. Walking with smaller and lighter steps. Holding the head high and maintaining correct posture. _Not_ scratching the armpits." She gave Cori a poisonous look when she said that, and Christian and Leslie both had to choke back chortles. "Smiling instead of glaring, and saying 'Hello, Your Highness' rather than 'Hey, you, Carlono!' Oh, I did forget one thing. A graceful curtsy. And since you are very much a commoner, you'll have to give him a very deep curtsy. Like this." She proceeded to demonstrate, slowly and gracefully sinking almost to the floor in the muscle-taxing curtsy Leslie remembered having had to perform at Gabriella's coronation. Cori stared at her in horror.

"Are you freakin' kidding me?" she squawked. "I'll never be able to do that!"

"Really?" said Anna-Kristina, rising easily. "Why not?"

"I get that low to the floor and I can't get up again without help," Cori said.

"But you're not fat anymore," Leslie reminded her. "Try it anyway."

Cori gave her a sharp look, then screwed up her face, pulled in a breath and tried to duplicate Anna-Kristina's curtsy. She managed it, but not without lifting her arms and holding them horizontal. The princess shook her head. "No, you can't lift your arms like that," she scolded.

"But I'll lose my balance if I don't," Cori protested.

"Aunt Leslie didn't have to lift her arms," Anna-Kristina told her in a sly little voice.

Cori turned red, scowled, and set her jaw, then laboriously executed the curtsy once more, this time plastering her arms to her sides. She wobbled on the way down and rose too quickly, but she did manage not to raise her arms. "Better," the princess pronounced. "Do it again." She wound up putting Cori through the curtsy ten more times before she was finally satisfied with her performance.

"Is that it, dammit?" Cori demanded.

"Excuse me?" Anna-Kristina retorted with her haughtiest, most affronted glare.

Cori planted her hands on her hips and sneered, "Oh, pardon me—is that it, dammit, Your Highness?" Leslie felt Christian's body heave with suppressed laughter.

Anna-Kristina came right back with, "Yes, that's it, Your Commonness. Or is that Your Rudeness? Ah, either one fits." She flapped a dismissive hand at Cori and turned to her aunt and uncle with an exasperated look. "Do you mind if I leave now? I really should get home to Mateo."

"Go ahead," Leslie said, grinning, "and thanks for your help, Anna-Kristina." The princess smiled ruefully and left, and Christian gave in to his chuckles.

"I guess I'd better get back to work," he said. "I wish both of you luck." He gave Leslie a kiss that made her wish the day were already over; then nodded coolly at Cori and retreated to his desk. Leslie signaled at Cori and led her out, glancing fondly back at Christian on the way.

"Crap," Cori muttered aloud.

"I'm inclined to agree," Leslie said sourly. "I can guarantee you this, Cori, if you don't control that temper of yours once and for all, your fantasy'll be a complete bust. I'll take you back to your bungalow for some rest and lunch, and after that, it's dance lessons for you."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- October 11, 2003

"So," said Roarke, at the wheel with Christian and Leslie in the rover's middle seat, "how do you think Miss Mukulani did at the dance lesson, Leslie?"

Leslie rolled her eyes. "She might be slightly more graceful than she was walking in," she said, and Roarke and Christian chuckled. "Honestly, Father, I had a lot of moments this afternoon where I was convinced she was a lost cause. Every time she missed a step, she swore. Every time someone stopped her and corrected a move she made, she swore some more. Whenever she caught someone besides me or the instructor watching her, she wanted to know what they thought they were looking at…and then she swore again."

Christian burst out laughing, and Roarke sighed gently. "Did she learn the waltz?"

"I think she got that one down," Leslie said. "Anything else either appeared to be beyond her ability or just didn't interest her. I had to tell her that most European countries seem to have a national dance, and that included Arcolos, so she might want to try learning that one too. She gave it a shot, but I think she keeps forgetting she's slim for the weekend. She moved as if she were still carrying around her usual weight."

"Let's face it," Christian remarked, "she's been the way she is all her life, I'm sure. Now she's completely different physically, and she's being asked to make substantial changes in her attitude and personality as well, however temporarily. One day full of crash courses can hardly make much difference."

Roarke glanced at him in the mirror. "It can," he said, "if the subject is willing to let it make a difference. It seems to me that, even with the inducement of meeting the prince, Miss Mukulani wasn't as willing as might be expected."

"Believe me," Leslie said, "she'll be sorry when she meets him. The first dirty word out of her mouth, he'll probably throw her out."

"I have no doubt we'll find out whether she makes a success of their meeting," Roarke said, bringing the car to a halt in front of Cori's bungalow. "Why don't you two come along with me, and from here we'll walk the rest of the way to the prince's bungalow."

Cori came out the door looking a little intimidated, which was enough in itself to surprise Leslie. But she had good reason: she was clad in a long, shimmering, saffron-colored gown with a straight skirt that fell past her ankles, which had necessitated the high-heeled shoes she wore beneath it; and her short, coarse black hair had been tamed and softened so that it actually shone with bluish highlights in the waning daylight. Her makeup had been done by a visiting makeup artist who normally provided his services only to celebrities. She looked like a totally different person, as if the transformation that had begun with the loss of her weight had finally been completed. She looked at Roarke and asked, "Will I pass?"

Roarke smiled. "You look lovely, Miss Mukulani. Shall we?" He offered her his arm, and she slowly slipped hers through it, the motion awkward with her uncertainty.

When they passed the car, Cori glanced longingly at it and said, "Are we actually walking to Prince Carlono's party? I don't know if I can make it in these shoes."

Roarke smiled. "It's just around the bend in the lane. I understand you've had quite the afternoon, between dance and protocol lessons, your dress fitting and the hair and makeup sessions. Do you feel prepared to meet the prince?"

"Well, Princess Anna-Kristina showed me the world's most torturous curtsy," Cori remarked, "so I have to hope so. They keep telling me he's very formal and very royal."

"He is at that," Roarke agreed, ambling along at her speed while she picked her way along in the unaccustomed heels, with Christian and Leslie a few paces behind, listening. "I have met his older brother, King Errico, on a few occasions. While they are very personable and greatly enjoy life and living, they insist on strict adherence to royal protocol. Prince Carlono will very much appreciate your efforts to do so; if you can keep that in mind, you may find yourself rewarded handsomely."

"With a handsome prince, maybe?" suggested Cori hopefully.

"Perhaps," Roarke said and smiled again. "As I explained this morning, you can do only so much to attract his attention. What happens thereafter depends as much on him as on you. Whatever does occur, enjoy yourself."

A few minutes later they arrived at the bungalow Carlono was occupying. It was located across the Ring Road from the end of the lane where all the other guest bungalows were situated; called the Hilltop Bungalow, it sat nestled in a stand of trees on a small rise that afforded a lovely view of the ocean to its north. It was two stories and built of attractive dark wood; a deck ran around two sides, and it was designed in reverse from most such units, with the living quarters on the top floor and the sleeping rooms on the ground floor. The front door was accessible by means of a long wooden stairway broken by a landing halfway up. Christian and Leslie led the way, Leslie picking up the long skirt of the green gown she'd bought in Lilla Jordsö and climbing the steps alongside her husband. Roarke indicated that Cori lift her own skirt as Leslie had done, and Cori blinked. "Why?"

"To avoid tripping on it as you climb the stairs," Roarke explained.

"Oh." Cori cleared her throat nervously and gathered enough material in one hand to lift the hem safely out of the way, and then started up alongside Roarke. "Geez, Mr. Roarke, this being formal sure has a lot of picky little details about it." Roarke chuckled in response but made no other reply, and in another moment they were waiting for an answer to Roarke's knock on the door.

A native islander dressed in formal servers' garb opened it and nodded at the new arrivals. "Right this way, everyone," he said. "I'll announce you. May I have your name, miss?" This last he addressed to Cori.

Cori, clearly affronted that she was the only one he didn't recognize, said with a snarl, "Cori Mukulani, and don't you forget it, pal."

Leslie groaned softly, and Christian and Roarke exchanged a look. Cori caught it and scowled, but otherwise subsided. The native man was unperturbed, though. "Thank you, miss," he said neutrally and moved ahead of them to the top of the steps that led down into the large living room where the party was being held. "Your Highness, may I announce the arrival of your latest guests: the former Prince Christian of Lilla Jordsö and his wife Leslie; Mr. Roarke; and Miss Cori Mukulani." He stepped aside and let them enter the room.

Cori watched Leslie again lift the hem of her dress and descend beside Christian; she too picked up her own skirt and stepped down next to Roarke. Just as they all reached the bottom step, Carlono materialized from somewhere, out of the surprisingly large crowd of partygoers, and greeted Christian with a hearty handshake and Leslie with a kiss on the back of her hand. "What an honor and a pleasure to have you both here!" he exclaimed, sounding genuinely delighted. "My dear Prince Christian, it has been an utter age since we last saw either you or any of your family. And Leslie, how delightful to see you once again."

"It's good to be here," Christian said with a smile and a nod, the only deference he needed to make to Carlono's station. Though officially not a prince, he was still afforded the rights and privileges a prince enjoyed; and Leslie, as his wife, held the same rights and privileges. She too nodded to Carlono.

"You have quite a turnout," she remarked to him.

"So I do, my dear lady, so I do," Carlono agreed cheerfully. "I was quite surprised to learn, thanks to the esteemed Mr. Roarke, that a number of acquaintances of either me or my family happened to be visiting the island at the moment. Ah, Mr. Roarke, my most gracious and generous host! Welcome to my little gathering!"

"I thank you for the invitation, Your Highness," Roarke replied with a shallow bow of respect. "May I introduce Miss Cori Mukulani, one of my guests this weekend."

Carlono turned to Cori, whose dark eyes were fixed helplessly on him, and smiled in polite greeting. "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Mukulani."

Leslie delicately cleared her throat, and Cori blinked and lowered herself in the curtsy Anna-Kristina had shown her. It still wasn't perfect; she was nervous, and her leg muscles weren't used to that particular little exercise, so that she rose again with perceptible difficulty. But she managed to smile hopefully at Carlono. "I'm incredibly thrilled to meet you, Your Highness," she said.

Carlono's smile warmed somewhat and he lifted her hand to kiss it, as he had done with Leslie. "Welcome to the party," he said. "Please feel free to help yourself to anything you like." He stepped back once and took in the foursome as a whole. "I believe there are a few more invitees due to arrive, and then we may commence in earnest with the dancing. In the meantime, would any of you care for a glass of wine?"

For about ten minutes they mingled a bit; Roarke introduced Cori to a few of the other guests, but it was obvious she preferred to keep Carlono within her sight and was content to hang around near the buffet table, where he stood chatting with Christian. Leslie had broken away long enough to greet a few of the guests with whom she and Roarke had connected earlier that week, making sure they were enjoying their stay and even talking a little with a few of them. Roarke also made some rounds; during this time the last of the prince's guests appeared, and the four-man violin orchestra in the corner struck up the first dance of the evening. At that point Leslie came back to rejoin Christian; Cori shuffled hastily closer to them, hoping to catch Carlono's attention so he'd ask her for a dance.

But, like the Enstads, Carlono seemed content to sit this one out. In fact, he turned to Christian and asked, "So how, exactly, did you win this one's heart? My older brother made a concerted attempt at it some twelve years ago and failed miserably; and then when she visited my sister-in-law, her dear friend, two years later, I tried my hand and failed equally miserably. Not, of course, that I could have won her in any case," he admitted with a laugh, while Cori listened in stunned disbelief. "I had to be reminded of our law forbidding marriage to the only child of the ruler of another country. I had not known that your wife was Mr. Roarke's only child. So how did you make a success of our failures?"

Christian shrugged, and Leslie grinned. "I was still too newly widowed when you and the king made your attempts, Your Highness," she said. "Christian had the good sense to wait a little longer." They all laughed.

"Frankly," Christian admitted, slipping an arm around her, "I probably just got lucky. I'd had enough failed attempts at finding a special woman that perhaps fate decided it was my turn for happiness at last." He turned to Leslie and said, "Well, my Rose, shall we dance? It amazes me to find myself willing to do it, now that I have a built-in partner."

"Lead the way, my love," Leslie said with a soft chuckle. "I think it helps that your father isn't here trying to push you into it, too."

"Hmm, yes, that might have something to do with it," Christian said cheerfully, and on their laughs he joined the dancers along with Leslie. Cori stared at them, wondering what lucky star that orphan girl had been born under to have princes attracted to her all over the place. _She's too damn good to be true,_ she thought, glancing nervously at Carlono, who was watching the dancing throngs. _Oh God, I hope Carlono isn't still hung up on her. It'd be so unfair. She's got Prince Christian, for cryin' out loud—she doesn't need any other man, especially the one I want!_ Cori heaved an annoyed sigh and shook her head, already growing discouraged. What would it take to catch—and keep—Carlono's attention?

At which point Carlono happened to look around and apparently realize that he and Cori were the only two in the room not dancing, aside from the waitstaff and the orchestra. "Well, this will never do," he announced, moving to Cori's side and addressing her. She stared helplessly up at him. "For the host not to be dancing at his own party, and here a conveniently available young lady with whom he could be doing that dancing? What say you, my dear lady? Oh, and do forgive me, I've forgotten your name. A travesty."

"Oh, th-that's okay, Your Highness, really," Cori hastily assured him, so overwhelmed at the fact that he'd actually asked her to dance that she forgot her oversensitive temper altogether. "My name's Cori Mukulani. I'd be incredibly honored and thrilled to dance with you. Gosh, thanks so much."

Carlono grinned down at her and swept her onto the floor, inciting panic in her when he began gracefully and expertly waltzing to the music and she was forced to call back the steps that had been so painstakingly drilled into her earlier. To her chagrin, he noticed. "I see you're new to this, my dearest Cori," he observed.

Cori felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. "I am," she agreed, abashed. "I guess I ought to admit the truth…I'm a native islander, just a commoner, Your Highness. I've lived here all my life and I've been off this island just once. What's your country like?"

At that Carlono lit up. "Why, you should certainly come to see it!" he exclaimed, leading her along in the dance without having to pay any attention to it at all, much to her envy. "It's a lovely place. Perhaps not as lushly beautiful as Mr. Roarke's little paradise, but we have our share of pulchritude. Our Mediterranean shores are warm and sparkling, and we have a wonderful lake where it's always cool and refreshing even in the highest heat of summer. And our Maragna Mountains are always a delightful place to vacation." He went on extolling the many virtues of Arcolos to a fascinated Cori; it was enough to take them through this first dance and two more.

The third dance saw Christian and Leslie on the sidelines, resting a few minutes and having a little wine. "It seems to have worked after all," Christian said, watching Carlono and Cori. "To be honest, I never thought he'd look twice at her."

"He had to," said Leslie ironically. "It's her fantasy."

Christian laughed. "So it is. But I have to admit, this is beginning to feel like a local version of 'Cinderella', only perhaps in reverse. Instead of Cori losing a glass slipper, she may lose this dream of hers, and Carlono not only will completely forget her name, he'll forget he ever met her at all. It's not in the nature of an Arcolosian royal to fall for a commoner."

"As if they really had much choice," Leslie said, surprised. "There's not much royalty left in the world anymore."

"Ah, well, there are concessions," Christian noted. "Nobility is acceptable, and so are celebrities, the extremely wealthy, and the siblings of same. Errico had no qualms about marrying Michiko because she was already well-known as a singer; Mattéano found Reiko acceptable because she's Michiko's sister."

"But how could I have been acceptable?" Leslie asked, bewildered.

"You're the daughter of Mr. Roarke, sovereign ruler of his own territory—at least in a nominal sense. Since he owns this island and is the highest authority here, that makes him the _de facto_ ruler. You're his child; that automatically made you acceptable." Christian put down his wine glass and gathered her into his arms. "But I thank the fates every day that you are the only child he has, or I'd probably still be searching for the love of my life." He hugged her close, and she nestled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Content in each other's embrace, they watched the dancers, swaying slowly together to the music.

Two dances later Carlono finally begged off. "I do apologize, my dear Cori, but I need to take a few moments to catch my breath," he said with a smile. "Your dancing improves with each successive tune, and now you've left me worn out!"

Cori grinned dizzily. "To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind taking a rest myself," she admitted. "Maybe we could sit out the next dance and have a little wine."

"Just one moment, if you please," Carlono said and glanced around the perimeter of the room. "Ah, there she is. I'll return momentarily." He left her near the buffet table and went off; Cori watched him go, and scowled when she realized he was headed in Leslie's direction. _I'm going to kill her,_ she thought. _One prince isn't enough for her?_

"I hope," said a slightly-accented voice beside her, "that he's only looking to keep my chair warm and not my wife." Cori turned to see Christian standing there, filling a small plate with some of the assorted delicacies and frequently glancing in the same direction she had been looking.

"It wouldn't be his fault," she said, automatically defending Carlono. "Maybe that's why he's never been married. He's still stuck on Leslie."

Christian stopped moving and gave her an incredulous look. "Say that again?"

"Well, dammit, look at her," Cori snapped, barely remembering to keep her voice low. "She really bugs me. Goody-two-shoes all the way through high school. Practically famous because she got to live with Mr. Roarke. Then she goes and gets adopted, and then she gets married in this huge frilly wedding and traipses off with this guy who's nuts over her. Then she comes back here, lands this nice cushy job as Mr. Roarke's assistant, and has it made. And _then_, dammit, then she goes and snags herself a prince! Aren't you enough for her? Does she need Carlono too?"

Christian stared at her in amazement all the way through this, then shook his head. "What exactly do you have against Leslie? What has she ever done to you that you seem to hate her so? In case you're wondering—and even if you aren't—Leslie has no interest whatsoever in Prince Carlono. She didn't have any interest when he tried to attract her, and she doesn't have it now."

"Oh, come on," Cori began.

Christian's expression instantly iced over, and the glint in his hazel eyes made Cori think twice about saying anything else. "If you dare suggest Leslie means to cheat on me, then you'd better reconsider that. I know her far better than you do, and I won't have you casting aspersions on her character because you yourself are so insecure. If you can't win Carlono on your own merits, then you don't deserve him." With that he picked up a second plate and walked away. Cori watched, impressed in spite of herself. She'd never seen such a glacial look on anyone else in all her days, and she had to admit that Christian had managed to intimidate her almost as much as Carlono did.

In the meantime, Carlono had approached Leslie, who was standing with Roarke a few feet from the violinists, and greeted them both. "I beseech your pardon for any interruption," he said, "but I merely wondered if you might do me a small favor. The young lady you brought here this evening…Cori…perhaps you could tell me a bit about her. She claims to be a commoner and a native of this island, and I can certainly believe it…but I'd like to know exactly who she is. If you can't answer my questions right here, then I'll gladly wait until it's convenient for you tomorrow, and come to see you then."

Leslie tilted her head curiously. "Are you asking for a background check, Your Highness?" she asked.

Carlono shrugged a little, looking faintly embarrassed. "I'm sure you realize the position I'm in," he said. "I admit to having a certain reputation, and now that my kingly brother has insisted I must find a suitable wife within a year, I am very vulnerable to gold-digging opportunists. More than that, she must needs be acceptable, or there's simply no use in pursuing a relationship."

"We do understand the nature of your request, Your Highness," Roarke assured him. "I know of no serious scandal surrounding Miss Mukulani, but if you wish, I'll be glad to look more deeply into it for you. Perhaps, as well, you might enumerate precisely what qualities you seek in a wife, so that we are better able to assist you."

"Indeed yes, Mr. Roarke, that's an excellent suggestion, and one I truly appreciate," Carlono said, nodding vigorously. "My dearest Leslie, do you happen to know anything of her at all?"

"I did go to high school with her," Leslie said slowly, "but we were never friends. I can't say I know her very well at all. She tended to keep to herself." She cleared her throat and shot Roarke a nervous glance. "As far as I know she's never been in any real trouble, but I…well, I didn't exactly follow her every move."

Carlono chuckled and kissed her hand. "Fear not, I'll not push you to reveal secrets," he said. "Since your father so kindly offered to assist me, I'll leave it up to him. I dare not suggest I am suspicious of the lady, but it occurred to me to realize that she let me do all the talking during our dances; and I began to fear I had revealed too much without learning anything pertinent about her…if you can grasp my meaning."

Roarke nodded and said, "That's quite all right, Your Highness. I'll see to it for you, and if you can be at the main house for lunch tomorrow, I should have all the information you need. If there are any further concerns afterward, we can address them then."

"That will be eminently satisfactory, Mr. Roarke," Carlono said with a smile. "My profuse thanks for your gracious help." Just then Christian came into view, toting two plates, and he smiled widely. "Ah, my dear Prince Christian…you've just reminded me I'm quite hungry. Thank you."

Christian laughed and handed Leslie a plate. "There are still plenty of very tempting choices, so you shouldn't remain hungry for long." Carlono chuckled, sketched Christian a brief bow and left them.

"Mmm, it looks good," Leslie remarked, surveying the contents of her plate. "Thanks, my love." She looked up and noticed his expression. "Is something wrong?"

Christian snorted. "I'm afraid I've begun to feel sorry for Carlono. I encountered Cori at the buffet table a moment ago, and she seems to be operating under the impression that Carlono still carries a torch for you, my Rose—and worse, that you're interested in him."

Leslie stared at him for a shocked five seconds, then rolled her eyes. "I hope you didn't listen to her!" She eyed Roarke and added, "But I can't say I'm surprised."

"She's merely jealous," Christian said dismissively. "I didn't like her attitude, and I made certain she knew it. But I think she's letting her insecurities control her."

Roarke slowly shook his head. "This fantasy grows more and more complicated," he said softly. "The prince has asked us to perform a discreet background check on Miss Mukulani, although I can't discern from that request whether he has an actual interest in her or is merely trying to protect himself. But there are things he will learn on his own, and perhaps sooner than even I anticipated."

"I keep thinking she's going to blow her own fantasy," Leslie said. "But if she doesn't back off, I might lose my own control."

"Can't have that," said Christian lightly. "Finish eating, my Rose. I intend to monopolize all your dances this evening, and you need energy for that." She chuckled and started to eat; Roarke smiled, then let his gaze stray to the buffet table, searching out Cori Mukulani and Prince Carlono. There was no predicting anything here—least of all a happy ending.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- October 11, 2003

Carlono reached Cori and stopped beside her, perusing the wide array of food on the buffet table. "I admit to being famished," he remarked. "And you, have you eaten?"

"Already have," Cori said. "Twice." She grinned sheepishly. "It's wonderful food, Your Highness. Who did the catering?"

"Mr. Roarke recommended a small family-owned concern called Tomai's Catering," Carlono said. "They have done an outstanding job here." He turned to her and surveyed her. "If, as you say, you have eaten twice—and if that plate you still hold is any indication of your appetite—then I commend you for maintaining such a slim figure."

Cori blanched instantly. Just like that, she was reminded that her slenderness was a very temporary thing. "Well, I can't really…" she mumbled, then bit her lip and stared at the food remaining on her plate. "I mean…I have a very hard time remembering not to eat so much." She wondered bleakly if it was truly possible to lose the weight she was going to find herself saddled with again in less than twenty-four hours. She'd been fat as long as she could remember, and she'd been accustomed to it; it was even a bonus in her job. But for the first time, it began to really bother her.

"You must have a rapid metabolism," Carlono remarked. "I should be as fortunate. I must take great care not to overindulge in our wonderful seafood dishes."

"I always thought seafood was supposed to be good for you, Your Highness," Cori said in surprise. "We have a lot of it here too, but it's usually too expensive for me. Sometimes I go and catch my own with some of my neighbors in the fishing village."

Carlono had started choosing items to go on his plate and gave her a surprised look. "You live in a fishing village? Well, this is the first information you have volunteered about yourself this evening, and if you please, I should like to know more."

Christian's words came back to Cori then: _"If you can't win Carlono on your own merits, then you don't deserve him."_ She realized she was going to have to be very glib—a quality she'd never possessed—without actually lying to the man, if she honestly hoped to turn this into more than a weekend dream-come-true. "You could ask me some questions, Your Highness, if you want," she suggested tentatively, aware as she said it that she might be leaving herself open to being put on the spot. This was a prince; whatever he asked her, he'd expect an answer, and he'd never have any respect for her if she didn't tell him the truth.

"Perhaps I will," Carlono said, eyeing her. "Now, dearest Cori, don't misunderstand me. I am in a very delicate position. I shall be truthful with you: I have requested of Mr. Roarke that he have a background check performed on you, for as you surely are able to see, I must protect my interests. I am royalty and quite well-to-do, and that alone would attract many a woman who otherwise would never take a second glance at me."

Cori stared at him, her heart sinking. Desperation filled her: she could see her fantasy already crumbling before her very eyes. "Your Highness, I'd never do that to you. I can't imagine hurting someone I was nuts about. I mean…most people never look twice at me, for a lot of reasons, and if I ever got a guy as terrific and handsome and nice and kind as you, I'd never do anything to ruin that. I've been following you for years and I know you're looking for a wife. Maybe I'm being really forward here, but…well…I asked Mr. Roarke if he'd, uh, arrange for me to get to meet you. I thought maybe I had a chance."

"Ah, well, my dear, your chances are as good as those of any other woman I have met here this weekend," Carlono said, shrugging. "But I don't know you any better than I know those women, and I find it necessary to take great care in the meeting of women. I find myself having far more trouble than even poor Prince Christian did in finding a good woman to love. His single status was minor legend in our circles, and he suffered through two forced marriages before he was free to marry Leslie. I may never have been married, but it occurs to me that I have squandered some two decades of my life sampling women all over the world when I should have been searching for one to share my life with. Unfortunately, all that sampling has taught me that a woman's head is too easily turned by riches and social status. You will, of course, forgive me if I appear suspicious, but my experience dictates that I take the greatest possible care in my search and especially in making my decision. And it should go without saying that love must play a very large role in that decision."

"Well, of course," mumbled Cori, already discouraged.

"Oh, come, come now, don't look so blue!" Carlono urged her. "Here, put down that plate and have a little wine, and keep me company here while I take in a little nourishment to sustain my energy for dancing. Perhaps, my dear, it will cheer you to know that I found your interest in Arcolos very enchanting. So few women ask me about my home country, and I was delighted to have the chance to describe it to you." He winked, and Cori managed a wistful little smile.

The dancing started up again and she found herself staring, unwillingly, at Christian and Leslie, who clearly had eyes only for each other. There were plenty of other dancers, and even Roarke was on the floor, holding conversation with a richly-dressed woman whom Cori didn't recognize; but for some reason she kept watching the Enstads. _If Leslie looks over here, I'll go out there and strangle her myself, and I don't care how mad Christian gets at me. I'll turn him into a widower without a second thought if she even glances at Carlono._ She didn't realize she was glaring at Leslie until Carlono exclaimed, _"Diento mie,_ my dear, why the furious face? Has someone stolen something from you?" She blinked at him, startled, and he glanced onto the floor, then chuckled. "Ah…Prince Christian and his princess. They truly do belong together."

Cori could take no more. "I'll make you forget all about her," she blurted, catching Carlono's wide-eyed, astonished attention. "I know she rejected you a long time ago, but she doesn't matter. I've got enough love for you, you'd never have to look for anyone else ever again, I swear it. I've been in love with you for years."

The prince gaped at her. "Have you now!" He set down his plate, grasped her arms at the shoulders, and smiled gently at her. "Dear Cori, you flatter me greatly. I have no wish to shatter your dreams, but you do understand my position, I am certain. I do have a question for you before I go on. Whence came the belief that I was focused on Leslie?"

"I know what happened," Cori said miserably. "I heard you asking Christian how he got her to fall in love with him when you and King Errico couldn't. That girl…she's had all this good luck in her life. I went to school with her and she always seemed to get all the breaks. And she had the gall to reject two princes before a third prince finally made her see she wasn't better than he was."

"Cori, Cori, you must listen to me," Carlono said quietly. "This jealousy doesn't become you at all. I have no interest in Leslie. For that matter, I had no true interest in Leslie when I made a play for her ten years ago. She still grieved her late first husband, and I was merely seeking another conquest. I consider her and Christian friends; they are both friends of our entire family, not just me. If you think me so foolish as to be pining for another man's woman, and if you are so foolish as to indulge in petty jealousy, then I hope I have set you straight on the former and given you food for thought in the latter. I don't presume to know Leslie's point of view in the matter of what you seem to believe is unprecedented good luck; but it's been my experience that those who find happiness have often paid a great price for it before it comes to them." He drew in a breath and cleared his throat. "And for you to so openly declare yourself to me touches me, dear Cori, you must realize that. I have no wish to destroy your hopes, and I shall not do so. As I explained, you have an equal chance to any other woman I have met here this weekend. Now, kindly have patience with a slightly frantic prince, if you please, and let me make my decision in peace. I have much to learn, not just about you, but a number of others who have shown their interest. Here, for this moment, I want you to put this matter aside, and just dance with me." He removed the plate from her hands and led her onto the dance floor, just before the current melody ended and a slow, soft lament began to play.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," Cori mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, dear Cori," Carlono said, quietly but earnestly. "Merely be happy for this night, and be my dance partner. I ask nothing more of you." He drew her in close and rested his cheek against hers, and Cori soaked in his warmth, the tingling that his touch produced in her, and the sensation of holding him against her. Whatever might happen in the next day or two, she would at least have this evening to remember for all her days.

§ § § -- October 12, 2003

It was not quite twelve-thirty in the morning when Leslie unlocked the front door of the main house with the key she still had and let herself and a yawning Christian in. With the unerring direction born of long knowledge of this house, she strode forward and opened the inner-foyer door, then located the light switch beside it and flipped it up, flooding the study with light from the ceiling fan. "Come on in, my love," she urged Christian.

He shuffled inside, raking a hand through his hair and giving her an apologetic look. "I never meant to drink that much wine," he said and yawned again. "It must be some Arcolosian vintage. The smoothest stuff I ever tasted."

Leslie grinned. "I thought it was pretty tasty myself, and I'm not much of a wine drinker." She glanced behind him, satisfied herself that he had closed the main door, and pulled the inner door shut once Christian stepped over the threshold. "Oh, it's going to feel wonderful to get out of these shoes and lie down on a nice soft mattress."

Christian cast her a quick look, trying to unbutton his tuxedo jacket. "The more of these clothes I remove, the better I'll feel. Yet another reason I tried to avoid parties—I just don't like formalwear. Now, damn it, why can't I get this button out of its hole?"

Leslie giggled and teased him, "Because you overindulged on Carlono's wine, my love, that's why. Here, I'll do it." Christian let his hands fall to his sides and watched while Leslie slid each of the three buttons through the holes and gently pushed the jacket off his shoulders. Their gazes met and they both went motionless for just a moment, and in that second came to a mutual agreement. They smiled faintly at each other; then Christian finished shrugging off the jacket and draped it over one arm, dipping his head to kiss Leslie. She savored him; he still faintly tasted of the wine he'd drunk at Carlono's party. When he lifted his head again, she said softly, "Let's get upstairs."

Inanely he asked, "Will Mr. Roarke be able to get in here all right?"

She grinned again. "He has a key too, my darling. Come on." With that she took his hand and led him to the stairs. "Goodness, you _are_ a little drunk, aren't you?"

"Yes, in a way I'm usually not," Christian noted through another yawn. "I tend toward imperialism on harder liquor. Wine generally doesn't bother me, but there's something about this stuff that's almost addictive. Do you know how many glasses I had?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd guess at least four," Leslie said, flipping switches at the foot of the steps so that the study went dark again and the upstairs hallway was lit instead. "I'd say you're a little spaced out this time around."

"Not to mention uncommonly sleepy," Christian murmured, slowly climbing the stairs. "Four, you say? And they weren't exactly delicate champagne flutes either, I'm afraid. I'm quite sorry, my Rose. Forgive me, please, if I embarrassed either you or Mr. Roarke."

"You were fine, don't worry," she assured him. "I don't think anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary, except for an awful lot of yawning."

Christian snorted softly with laughter. "I half expect to fall asleep on my feet!_ Ach, herregud,_ more buttons to deal with. And there are so many of them…" He'd pulled the bow tie loose on his way up the stairs, but now he was fumbling ineffectually with the buttons of his shirt. Leslie let him precede her into her old room, then closed the door and stripped away the loosened tie before deftly undoing buttons in swift succession. He watched her in surprise. "Hmm, and when did you get so good at that?"

"I have ulterior motives," she told him with a grin.

Christian's slow smile kicked up the rate of her heartbeat, and as she tugged his shirt free of the pants to undo the last few buttons, he reached behind her and quietly lowered the zipper on her dress. "In that case, allow me to help you." She eased his shirt off his shoulders while her dress began to succumb to gravity; and he tugged his arms out of the sleeves, then leaned in and kissed her again. "Mmm," he murmured against her mouth, "you taste of that wine. It makes you even more addictive to me than you already are."

She pulled her arms free of the gown, let it fall and stepped out of it. "You do too," she said softly, draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning in to close the distance between their lips. He groaned softly, and for a few minutes they simply devoted themselves to their kiss, forgetting all else. Even Christian's drowsiness fell away in their rising ardor for one another. By the time they surfaced, they both had only one thought between them, and finished undressing each other to act on it.

"I don't know what you did to me," Christian moaned, gently pushing her back onto the bed, "but something about you at that dance…I don't know."

"It was the wine," Leslie assured him, combing her fingers through his dark hair.

"What was the wine?" he mumbled, absorbed in caressing her with both hands. "You mean an aphrodisiac? Carlono should enjoy knowing that."

She let loose a small, soft huff of amusement. "We'll tell him in the morning," she said, her voice trailing away into a hazy moan. "Oh…Christian…"

It was the last either of them said for the next half hour, other than calling each other's names in the throes of passion. When they became aware again, Christian lifted his head to check the time and groaned. "It's past one. Quite fortunate for me that I don't open until ten on Sundays."

"We need to brush our teeth anyway," Leslie observed, pulling him down for another indulgent kiss before they reluctantly broke apart. "I hope Father wasn't planning to stay to the very end of Carlono's party. It's way too late for him."

"Not to mention us," Christian said, raising an eyebrow and grinning. "All right, then, let's get some sleep. I'll have to remember to ask him in the morning whether your friend Cori succeeded in ruining her fantasy after all."

"Geez, Christian Enstad, you have a funny idea of who my friends are," she retorted, and he laughed. Grinning back, she dressed for bed and said, "Be back in a minute," before crossing the hall to brush her teeth.

They had just settled down to go to sleep when they heard the sound of the door opening downstairs. "Now you can stop worrying, my Rose, he's home," Christian assured her, yawning once more.

"Can't yet," she said, making him lift his head again in surprise as she swung her feet out of bed. "You had to go and say that about Cori—now I want to know if he saw anything that might suggest how her fantasy's turning out."

"Saints preserve us," Christian groaned sleepily. Leslie giggled and left the door ajar, making him squint when the hallway light went on, and stepped out to intercept Roarke.

"You're still awake?" Roarke asked, topping the steps.

"We were just about to go to sleep," Leslie said. "What's the word on Cori's fantasy?"

"Nothing unusual," Roarke replied. "I was one of the last half-dozen guests to depart, but Miss Mukulani remained behind."

From the bedroom Christian queried drowsily, "Did Carlono look annoyed? It's begun to sound as if she's an appendage."

Leslie laughed and Roarke grinned. "As a matter of fact, I believe he offered to walk her back to her own bungalow. More than that I am afraid we must wait to find out, if Miss Mukulani wishes to confide in anyone."

"Well, then that's it," Leslie said lightly, tossing a teasing grin over her shoulder at her husband. "Either it'll be a state secret, or we'll have to hear it from Carlono." They all chuckled softly, and Leslie shrugged. "Just thought I'd check in. Thanks, Father, see you in the morning."

"Good night, child, and sleep well, Christian," Roarke said.

"I'll have no problem at all with that," Christian assured him and punctuated the sentence with a loud yawn. Roarke chuckled when Leslie playfully rolled her eyes; he patted his daughter's shoulder and went to his own room. Leslie retreated into hers, closing the door and sliding in beside Christian. "Now," he added, "for heaven's sake control your curiosity, my Rose, and go to sleep." He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes; Leslie rested her head on his shoulder and he released a soft hum of contentment. Soon she felt the regular rhythm of his breathing and heard the slow, steady beat of his heart, but lay awake herself for some time, wondering. Fantasy or not, she just didn't see Cori Mukulani and Prince Carlono together. _Stranger things have happened here,_ she reflected, _but there's just something about this that feels…well, _off._ I guess we'll find out soon enough._ She gave a soft sigh, laid her forearm across Christian's chest and eventually fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- October 12, 2003

They were having a slightly late breakfast on the veranda when Carlono appeared unexpectedly, making them all rise. Roarke bowed, and Christian and Leslie both nodded; Carlono smiled and waved a dismissive hand. "Please, sit, all of you," he insisted, taking the last empty chair. "I apologize for interrupting your morning meal, but I find myself in a great quandary. There are four women who are highly interested in me, who have also intrigued me enough to wish to learn more. The lovely young publishing heiress from Barcelona, Señorita Graciela Villagran; two of my own countrywomen: Anitella DeSola, whose father outright owns a fair-sized rainbow-gem mine in the northern Maragnas, and Seniça Vallomoros, sole heiress to the Vallomoros wine industry; and Miss Cori Mukulani, of whom I still know far too little."

Christian and Leslie looked at each other: so Cori was still in the running. Then Christian said in surprise, "The Vallomoros wine—you were serving that at the party last evening, weren't you? I have never in my life tasted such a smooth vintage. I'm afraid I overindulged a bit."

Carlono laughed delightedly. "Yes, you have excellent taste, my dear Prince Christian! It is indeed the very wine you were drinking. The vineyard is nearly the sole reason for existence of the village of Agostí in the southernmost coastal foothills of the Maragnas. I am told that it is not only the mountain location but the proximity to the good sea air that makes the wine so eminently drinkable. It's all we will drink in the palace—no other wine will do, not even Dom Perignon." He hesitated, then corrected himself. "Well, I must admit, Errico's older son prefers the latter, but he's an anomaly." They all laughed. "In any case, Mr. Roarke, these are the candidates from whom I must try to choose. And while I can easily learn most anything I need to know about Señorita Villagran and the Misses Vallomoros and DeSola, such is not the case with Miss Mukulani. I know only that she resides in the fishing village here on the island, and that she claims to have been in love with me for years. This, of course, is why I have requested the background check. To be fair, I've done the same for the other ladies, just to protect myself, you understand. But Miss Mukulani is the one blank spot in the group, and though she professes to love me, I dare not trust too quickly."

"Completely understandable, Your Highness," Roarke assured him. "Before we came out here for the morning meal, I called our police department and asked them to begin work on that as soon as was convenient. They will notify me when the report is complete."

"Ah, wonderful, Mr. Roarke, you have my sincerest gratitude for your generous help," Carlono said, relaxing in his chair.

"Would you care to join in our meal?" Roarke invited. "As always, my cook has presented us with more food than we can eat."

Carlono brightened. "I should enjoy that greatly, Mr. Roarke, thank you again." He looked up as Mariki came out. "It's my assumption that you are the lady whose cooking seems to have gained a reputation on this island."

Mariki eyed him in surprise. "It has?"

Leslie grinned. "Yup, and now you have to live up to it. Mariki, meet His Royal Highness, Prince Carlono of Arcolos."

Mariki promptly curtsied; fairly accustomed to the comings and goings of Christian and Anna-Kristina, she had lost some of her overwhelming awe of royalty and was able to conduct herself with aplomb around them. "Let me show you what's available, Your Highness," she said and lifted covers off dishes. Carlono made several choices and she filled his plate, then turned to Roarke while the prince began to eat. "Is there anything else you need, sir? Prince Christian, Miss Leslie?" They all shook their heads, and she nodded acknowledgment. "I'll be in the kitchen, then." She retreated.

Carlono chuckled. "Do you hear that a great deal, Christian? Everyone calling you prince, even though technically you are not?"

"All the time," Christian said and smiled. "It appears I can never truly escape my royal status, and I've finally come to the conclusion that the loss of my title was merely a formality and that nothing else has changed at all. I'm not required to bow and scrape to either my own family or any other royalty, and I still retain most of the rights and privileges afforded a prince. And Leslie continues to hold some of the ones she obtained upon marrying me, even if she isn't aware of most of those. Mariki has never ceased addressing me as a prince, as you just heard, and most of Mr. Roarke's employees are the same way. And quite too many of my customers bow at me when they realize who I am."

"Once a prince, ever a prince," Carlono said knowingly, nodding. "As you said, the revocation of the title seems to have been little more than a formality. But don't lament the situation too loudly, my dear friend. You may one day find need for those rights and privileges. Ah…yes, indeed, Mr. Roarke, your cook most assuredly does live up to the reputation she is gaining. I rarely taste food this good outside the palace."

"I'm very pleased to know that, Your Highness, thank you," Roarke said with a smile. "If I may ask, do you have any particular inclination toward one of the ladies you named a moment ago, or are they all equally appealing?"

"The latter, I'm afraid, my good sir," Carlono said wistfully. "If any of them showed any special attribute—or revealed some undesirable trait—it would make my choice a bit easier. I must admit, I have already wished any number of poxes upon my brother for forcing me to make such a hasty choice, but as ever, it does no good. I am in a bad position, and it worries me, day and night."

"The king isn't even giving you a chance to get to know a woman, or fall in love?" Leslie asked in surprise. "I mean, I can remember what a hurry he was in to get married himself, but he still managed to fall in love with Michiko before he married her."

"I pointed out that very thing to him, my dearest Leslie," Carlono assured her with a sigh, "and to that he merely said that a year was quite enough time to locate and fall for a suitable woman, and further, that it was more time than he himself had been allowed."

Leslie shook her head. "Been allowed! He set his own time limit, in case he neglected to tell you that, Your Highness. He gave himself all of a week, and spent most of that chasing me in spite of my insistence that I wasn't interested. By the time he was informed of the law that prevented him from marrying me, he had two days left."

Carlono was staring at her. _"Diento mie! _ That, he never told me! Well, perhaps he is being somewhat more generous with me, but that doesn't lessen my fear that I'll be unable to locate someone. Some families have lifelong bachelors, and I should have been content to be ours. But Errico will not have it."

"Forgive me, Your Highness," Roarke said gently, "but if you're conducting your search under duress, and if you truly would be content to remain a bachelor, then you may be your own obstacle to happiness. You seem to find this something of a trial. Love cannot be forced."

"Quite true," Christian said dryly, "and my father tried it with me on at least two occasions. If you're merely looking to satisfy Errico, then you might as well let him arrange a marriage for you and be done with it."

Carlono made a concessive face and sighed. "An excellent point, Christian. But you did eventually find love, and I would prefer the same."

"We all would," Christian said, smiling. "Well, failing your ability to love the woman, you might consider her feelings for you when you make your choice."

"I realize you are attempting assistance, and I appreciate it greatly," Carlono told him, returning the smile. "But how am I to know if a woman does indeed love me? They all claim to do so, when it could well be my social status or my wealth that is the true attraction. In the end, I can only trust whatever my instincts may tell me."

"That, and the background checks," Christian wisecracked, and they all laughed, Carlono the most loudly. They recognized it as a release of stress, and when it died down the Arcolosian prince settled back in his chair.

"Quite so, quite so," he said, patting his stomach. "An excellent repast, Mr. Roarke. I'll leave you to your family breakfast now, as I undoubtedly should have done from the beginning, and I shall await your word as to the background check in question. I thank you once more…until later." He arose and departed.

"Four of them," Leslie mumbled, shaking her head. "Cori's got serious competition. I really hope she hasn't pinned too many hopes on this fantasy of hers."

"I daresay she has little chance," Christian observed in a low voice. "Unless a minor miracle happens and Carlono falls for her, she'll find herself out of the running when her background check comes back. And I dread his reaction if he should see her after the effects of that mirror wear off this evening."

Roarke glanced between them as they spoke, and smiled a bit ruefully. "Miss Mukulani inquired of me last night as to changing her fantasy to make her weight loss permanent. I had to explain that it was too late for that."

"I thought of this some time ago," Leslie said. "If Jasmine Bellflower could make a permanent change to having curly hair, then why can't Cori's weight loss be permanent too? I thought that's the way that mirror was supposed to work."

Roarke cleared his throat delicately and said, "Ah, well…unfortunately, it was necessary to change some of the rules regarding the mirror's operation."

Leslie eyed him; Christian's eyes began to sparkle with amusement and curiosity. "Is that so?" Leslie asked. "How so?"

"The mirror's owner made a strong suggestion to that effect," said Roarke, in a tone that clearly indicated he would divulge no more. "You both have jobs to attend to, do you not? You'd better finish your meal."

"Foiled again," Leslie murmured to Christian, who let out a laugh and squeezed her hand before turning his attention to the rest of his breakfast.

‡ ‡ ‡

Through the day Roarke and Leslie caught glimpses of Carlono here and there, with one woman or another. It seemed clear enough to them that he was testing the waters with each of his other three suitors, trying to get a sense of them and to figure out his own reaction to them. Late in the afternoon he came to the main house with one of them, introducing them to the vineyard heiress, Seniça Vallomoros. Leslie and the heiress liked each other on sight and tentatively struck up a friendship; Carlono, meantime, took advantage of Seniça's distraction and collected the background-check report that Roarke had promised him on Cori. He quickly folded the pages and slid them into an inner pocket of his suit jacket, thanked Roarke and made an excuse, and took Seniça out with him. Leslie glanced at her father then and asked, "He got the report?"

"He did," Roarke said quietly. "Have you seen Miss Mukulani at all today?"

"A few times," Leslie said. "She kept asking me if I'd seen Carlono and if he'd said anything at all about her. I hate to say it, Father, but I think she wants to actually win this little competition, beat out these other three women—and she's going to be in for a really rude disappointment."

"I fear you're correct, my child," Roarke agreed regretfully. "But as you'll recall, I made it clear to her that this would not last beyond the weekend, and that whatever decision Carlono made would be entirely up to him. I can do no more than that."

At five Christian came back to the main house to have supper with Roarke and Leslie, and just as they were about to start the meal, Cori made an appearance, looking panicked and desperate. "Mr. Roarke, please," she begged, "I'll pay anything, even in installments, whatever I have to do…but please, just this little thing, please make my skinniness last for good. Please, I'm begging you."

"I have tried to explain to you that it's not within my power, Miss Mukulani," Roarke said gently, watching her. "I warned you from the very outset that this is a fantasy only; I cannot make it permanent. Believe me, if Prince Carlono is truly interested in you, a surface detail such as weight won't matter to him."

"It will if he didn't know about it before," Cori wailed.

"Have you seen him at all today?" Leslie asked.

"I did, but he was always with some other woman," Cori said in despair. "And I guess that means I'd better get the message. I'm gonna be skinny only a little longer…less than an hour and I'll go back to being Fat 'n' Furious Cori again." She gave a hopeless shrug. "Why even bother waiting around for it to happen? I'm just gonna get back into my old clothes and go on home. I'm scheduled to work at the bar tonight anyway." She looked up at Roarke, essaying a sad attempt at a smile. "Thanks, Mr. Roarke…I'll never forget last night. At least I'll have the memory to hold onto." Before any of them could respond, she turned and shuffled across the veranda, head down.

"I admit to feeling sorry for her," Christian said, watching her go. "In all the years I was a prince, chafing under the control of my father and then my brother, I thought I had problems. But I had more power than I knew, in my station. To be a nobody like that, to be a commoner with little clout…I can't imagine a more helpless feeling."

"Quite frankly, Christian, she is a very strong young woman," Roarke said, "and more than just physically so. She may choose to conceal whatever it is that causes her habitual belligerence, but I sense a particular strength about her that will allow her to recover from this disappointment in time." He smiled. "Besides, Carlono has yet to make his choice. Something tells me the true test of his desperation, and of Miss Mukulani's stated feelings for him, yet lies ahead."

Just a few minutes past seven, after Christian had gone home for the night and while Roarke and Leslie were in the study completing some paperwork, Carlono came in looking drained and stressed. "Forgive the intrusion," he pleaded as Roarke bowed and Leslie curtsied to him. "No, no, please, don't bother with formalities. I feel as if I've failed. Neither the Spanish heiress nor our lovely vintner's daughter has appealed to me on the necessary level. I felt most for Anitella DeSola…only to discover that an old boyfriend of hers has suddenly arrived on the island, and she has decided to give him another chance."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness," Leslie exclaimed softly in sympathy.

Carlono smiled wanly at her. "It's quite all right, dear Leslie, it's quite all right. I realize this is a decidedly unorthodox thing for a prince to ask…but might I inquire as to the location of a bar where I might go unrecognized? I don't wish to harm anyone, but I need a chance to try to think."

Roarke looked thoughtfully at him for a moment, then turned to Leslie and said, "If you would, Leslie, why don't you take Carlono down to the bar near the fishing village. They are quite isolated in that part of the island, and most will probably not know your identity, Your Highness. When you are ready to return, simply advise the bartender and he will call me here at the house. I'll send someone to pick you up."

Carlono nodded and said, "I thank you, Mr. Roarke. I know I can trust you to be discreet. And I also thank you, dearest Leslie, for being my chauffeur. I am afraid," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile, "that I'll find it somewhat necessary to lubricate my brain."

Roarke repressed a return smile, but Leslie giggled. "Happens to most of us at some point or another," she assured him. "I'll be back in around an hour, Father."

_The bar near the fishing village,_ Leslie thought, turning out of the Main House Lane onto the Ring Road and putting on a little speed once she'd passed the little dirt lane that led to the plane dock. She had seen it a bare few times in all the years of her residence on the island; and she knew perfectly well that it was the bar where Cori Mukulani was employed as a bouncer. There was no doubt in her mind that Roarke had suggested this bar for a reason. Carlono would see Cori as she truly was; but Leslie wondered if he would even recognize her—assuming Cori let him see her in the first place.

Neither she nor Carlono spoke all the way there. After about thirty minutes she pulled the car into the small unpaved parking lot of a cramped little building with a sign out front that said simply, BAR. "This is the place Father mentioned, Your Highness," she said, stopping the car a few feet from the door.

Carlono took it in for a moment, smiled and nodded. "It appears perfect for my intended purpose," he said. "The escort is deeply appreciated. I shall notify Mr. Roarke when I have had enough of thinking."

"Just be careful," Leslie warned him. "This place has a bad reputation, and I'd hate to see anything happen to you."

Carlono grinned unexpectedly and assured her, "If my father or brother had known of all the unsavory bars I frequented over the years in Santi Arcuros, I myself might very well be sitting upon my country's throne for having caused their demises of shock. Have no fear, dearest Leslie. I shall be as safe and sound as I can keep myself. Sleep well." She smiled back, watched him get out of the car and enter the place, and sighed. _I hope you're right,_ she thought and put the car in gear, making a wide circle and retreating back in the direction from which she had come.


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- October 12, 2003

Carlono barely noticed the large woman standing near the door; she didn't stop him at any rate, and he moved into the bar unmolested. A few heads turned, but most of the patrons were patently uninterested in him. The prince moved with his usual self-assurance to the bar, settled onto a stool and said to the waiting bartender, "Fill a whiskey glass with brandy, if you would, please. The best you have."

"Coming right up, sir," the man replied politely. Carlono propped his elbows onto the polished wooden surface and rested his head in his hands, closing his eyes. A few rough-looking fishermen from the village took note of him and began making remarks amongst one another, pointing at him and snickering. Carlono overheard them, but couldn't make out their words and didn't much care. He simply sat still and ignored them.

Across the room at the door, Cori Mukulani felt more than ever like a beached whale, left on the sand to slowly expire. Since regaining her weight earlier that evening, she had felt unusually bloated and heavily depressed. All afternoon she had repeatedly gone to Carlono's bungalow, trying to see him just once more, but each time she had been told he was out, and she'd given up at last on her final trip there around quarter till five and seen him from the deck that wrapped around the upper floor, coming up the beach with a slender, refined-looking woman on his arm. She hadn't bothered staying around then; she'd gone back to the main house, pleaded in vain for Roarke to let her weight loss be permanent, and then given up entirely.

Now, here was the man of her dreams and her dashed hopes, looking for all the world as if someone had rejected him. Cori wished she dared go up to the bar and speak to him. He hadn't even looked at her when he'd come in, and it had been a blow to her battered pride. _Dammit, I used to be able to stand alone. Never had a thought or a care for anyone I didn't need to, except me. With Pete and Loli gone to Hawaii, I wouldn't have to give a damn about anyone at all. But I had to go and do something stupid like get my fantasy to meet Prince Carlono granted. Now just daydreaming about him isn't enough anymore. Roarke and that idiot Leslie should've warned me something like that'd happen. Well, hell, Roarke sort of did warn me it was strictly a fantasy. But I bet that Leslie Hamilton was laughing her head off at me all weekend. She had no trouble getting her prince. Everything came so easy to her. Why can't I get a break, just once?_

The four guys at the table nearest where she stood finally noticed her staring helplessly at the bar; they followed her gaze and spotted the prince, and began to grin at one another in disbelief. "Think you'd ever see the day when Fat 'n' Furious'd have cow eyes for some guy?" one asked, loudly enough to jar Cori out of her dejected ruminations.

"Fallin' in love, Mukulani?" asked another, cackling.

"Shut up, shark bait," Cori said and gave him a solid whack in the back of the head with one hand. She was used to these guys; she knew them from the fishing village and had gone to school with them. They were also used to her and her extremely short temper, but she still had the ability to catch them unawares, especially when they'd been drinking for some time, as they had now. "Looks like you've drunk enough to wash away what's left of your brain again. Need a little help getting out the door?"

"You offerin'?" asked the second man with a sneer. "Just try it."

"You'll never learn," Cori muttered and easily hauled the man out of his chair with one hand. "Say good night to your buddy, fellas, he's outta here." Before any of the others could respond, she half dragged the guy to the entrance, pulled the door open and gave him a hefty shove that sent him stumbling across the dirt and finally tripping over his own momentum. She didn't wait to watch him fall but slammed the door after him and resumed her post, glaring at the remaining three with a jaundiced eye. Of course, they didn't get the message, and she was soon dealing wearily with their wisecracks again, giving back as good as she got, but with less than her usual spirit.

She gradually became aware that some fishermen she didn't know well, standing at the bar, were advancing on Carlono, who continued to sit in silence, nursing a glass. Once more the occupants of the nearby table followed her gaze, and abruptly one of them recognized the prince through his sodden haze. "Well, hell's bells, ain't that Prince What'shisname from some little Eye-talian island?"

"His name is Carlono," Cori hissed, "and he's from Arcolos, bug-brain. Don't you dare get up and—!" It was too late; the threesome had risen from their seats to join the five other fishermen already slowly approaching Carlono, who so far seemed oblivious.

For his part, Carlono was lost in thought and working steadily on his brandy, which turned out to be very strong indeed, exactly as he had hoped. Unfortunately, it impaired his senses much more quickly than he'd expected, and by the time he realized people were crowding him in, he was surrounded. He gave them his most imperial glare and warned, "Gentlemen, I'll thank you to leave me in peace."

"Think not, sissy-boy," said the man who'd first recognized him. Carlono turned to eye him, and he smirked. "Never seen no prince who knew how to fight."

"This character's a prince?" someone hooted. "Whaddaya know, boys, we got us genu-wine royalty in our midst!"

"How'd we get so lucky, Your Excellency?" someone else asked mockingly.

"Fellas," the bartender broke in, "leave the man alone. He wasn't botherin' anyone, and you got no right to just move in on him. Back off."

"And you better, every damn last one of you," Cori added. They all turned to look at her, including Carlono. "This is your only warning, so you better listen."

"Gimme a break," said someone. "There's eight of us, and even ol' Fat 'n' Furious there can't beat eight of us. C'mon, Prince Sissy, prove you can do more than drink."

Carlono had emptied his brandy glass; deliberately he placed it on the bartop, then turned lazily to the man who had spoken. "Perhaps I'll let you live to regret those words," he drawled, his voice slightly slurred, and like lightning rammed a solid fist into the man's jaw. His would-be antagonist gaped for half a second; then his eyes rolled back in his head and he gently sank to the floor in amusing slow motion.

"He hit ol' Billy!" someone shouted, and just like that Carlono was in the middle of a free-for-all. Cori roared a couple of very filthy curses and waded right in, yanking assailants away and tossing them aside left and right. Carlono wasn't doing too bad a job of defending himself, but the one brandy had handicapped him somewhat, and the number of those joining the fray was growing. Cori's temper blew like a volcano. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence; but this time she was in a rage, fighting to defend someone she loved, and that lent her an extra strength and fury that began to make an impression on even the regulars who saw her in here every night.

"Call the cops," she yelled at the bartender at one point.

"No, call Mr. Roarke…" Carlono groaned, overhearing. _"Diento mie…"_ He cursed in Arcolosian, swinging his fists. But a few too many blows had found their mark and he had begun to look decidedly battered. Cori was having trouble keeping up with the stream of attackers, despite her blazing wrath, and suffered a few punches herself.

When Cori started literally cracking heads together, those of the fighters still sober enough to realize what this meant hastily backed down and began to leave, finally allowing her to make some headway in rescuing Carlono. Systematically she dragged bodies to the door and heaved them out into the parking lot; unconscious carcasses piled up on the dirt like so many limp fish. By the time she really stopped and looked around, she found she'd nearly cleared the bar. Those few who were left were staring at her in awe, cringing in booths against the back wall; the bartender was shaking his head. And Carlono lay on the floor in a very undignified heap, knocked out cold.

"Aw, hell and damnation," Cori cried and dropped to the floor beside him, knowing she'd need help getting back onto her feet from this position but not caring. "Your Highness, Your Highness…wake up, please. Come on…" She looked up at the bartender. "Did you call Mr. Roarke like he said to?"

"Yeah, he said there's a driver on the way," the bartender said. "You okay, Cori?"

"Yeah, yeah, never mind me…he's unconscious, dammit," Cori snapped. "Help me get him awake and standing! What the hell'd you give him, anyway?"

The bartender came out and grasped Carlono's arm, while Cori struggled back to her feet and managed to get there by clutching a table and pulling herself up. "He had a full glass of brandy, and that's all," he informed her. "It wasn't the drinking that made him pass out. Someone hit him in just the wrong place, and he went down like a tree."

Cori cursed volubly and at length. "We'll be lucky if he doesn't sue this place," she shouted. "Cops'll come around and shut us down, too. Hell knows they've threatened to do it enough times." She took Carlono's other arm, offered her by the bartender, and together they dragged the limp prince to his feet. Gently Cori shook him. "Come on, Your Highness, you gotta wake up!"

The door opened then and two of Roarke's employees came in. "We're here for Prince Carlono," one said, just as Carlono twitched and blinked back to life. Cori sighed deeply in relief and waved at the two.

Carlono was asking bleary questions in Arcolosian, and the bartender and the two employees looked at one another. "You'll be fine, Your Highness," Cori said. "There's a couple guys here to take you back with them. I sure hope you won't hold this against us."

Carlono shook his head hard and cleared his throat, blinking as if trying to focus. "Ah, yes…I think I see," he mumbled. "A strange night I've had, strange indeed. How quite odd, my lady, your voice seems familiar to me somehow." He squinted at Cori in confusion, obviously trying to clear his vision. "Cannot see you well, but yes, you do sound familiar."

Cori's heart ached. "It's me, Cori," she whispered wistfully.

But Carlono apparently didn't hear her; as she said the words he squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. "My head," he mumbled. _"Diento mie,_ I must needs have some peace. Yes, do take me back, quickly, if you please. Have I settled my bill?"

"Forget it, Your Highness," Cori said with a sharp glare at the bartender. "It's on the house. Keep yourself safe." She let one of Roarke's employees take Carlono's arm and turned away, her head low, fighting the desperate urge to insist on accompanying them all back to Carlono's bungalow. It wasn't her place to do anything more for the prince, and she knew in the depth of her sore heart that she'd never see him again.

"Right this way, Your Highness," she heard one of Roarke's men say. "Is there anything we can get you? Aspirin? A doctor? Someone gave you quite a shiner there."

"_Diento mie,"_ Carlono mumbled again, and then the door closed behind them. Cori closed her eyes and slowly crossed the floor to take up her post beside the door. For the first time she could remember, she wished it were closing time, so that she could go home and give in to a good hard cry for one of the very few times in her life.

§ § § -- October 13, 2003

"I am terribly sorry we were unable to help you, Your Highness," Roarke apologized at the plane dock. "Please don't let this discourage you: there is someone waiting for you somewhere. Don't give up hope."

Leslie smiled gently at Carlono and nodded. "Christian told me once that his mother used to tell him the same thing," she said. "Sometimes he found it hard to believe, but he kept his faith in her words, and he and I finally found each other."

"I shall try to remember that," Carlono said with a game smile. "Oh…if I might ask, Mr. Roarke…what happened to the charming young woman with whom I whiled away so many dances at my party Saturday evening? I was certain I overheard her speaking to me in my rather intoxicated state last night, but I had to conclude that it must have been a dream. She would never have appeared in such a place."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other, and Leslie asked, "Did you ever look at the background report on her?"

"Why, no—in fact, I forgot you had given it to me," Carlono said in astonishment. He reached into his suit jacket and tugged out a sheaf of stapled papers. "It seems they had been tucked away in here all the while." He unfolded the pages as they watched, and his good eye got wider the more he read. At last he looked up, blinking, the good eye so huge with shock that the black eye had come partially open from its swollen squint in an attempt to match it. _"Diento mie,"_ he said. _"Diento mie,_ I would never have guessed. You are telling me that the lovely slim lady I danced with was the same woman throwing away drunken wastrels, left and right, all around me, shouting the vilest curses and cracking men's heads against each other? The same woman who…who…" He stopped and stared at Roarke. "It couldn't be," he protested at last. "She was frightfully overweight."

"It was indeed Cori Mukulani, Your Highness," Roarke assured him. "She had a fantasy this weekend—to be slim and to meet you. And she got her wish."

Carlono stood a long moment and tried to absorb this, then shook his head a few times. "I owe her much," he said. "Chief among the things I owe her is the courtesy of not telling her that I found her little more than an amusing diversion, a break from all the cultured women I have been entertaining over these few weeks of my search. She is entitled to her daydreams." He smiled wistfully. "But please do tell her I wish her the best, and give her my thanks for her company."

"We will," Roarke promised. He and Leslie shook hands with Carlono and watched the prince turn and move slowly towards the dock, then looked at each other and smiled at the same moment. There was little doubt that Carlono wouldn't soon forget; and perhaps, they thought, he might even be back.

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_Next up: one decidedly surprising weekend for everyone. Stay tuned…_


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